Shattered Identities
by Kittryn
Summary: Transpired events lead Bruce to a confrontation with the Joker, this time, not as the caped Vigilante. The Joker takes a liking to the playboy forcing the man to visit him in Arkham. Meanwhile a Villain has taken residence in the city. Plotting both their demise. Batman/Joker, Multichapter, Will be rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1 - The Fall

Shattered Identities

Chapter 1

The Fall

Arkham Asylum was just as run down and rotten as the last time he had "visited". The only saving factor of this decrepit place being the high-tech security measures whirling away around him. The soft buzz of electric doors, the subtle sound of twisting cameras. The last time he had been here had been different. Chaotic... Yet he almost felt like it had been more controlled. It all came down to the fact that, right now, in his button up shirt and tailored suit, he felt naked, exposed in ways he loathed. It couldn't be avoided though. He had to know. To make sure. Now he also had an excuse. One he hadn't realized he needed, let alone wanted.

It had been a long week. To be honest it had been a long month. The Joker had escaped the re-established island of Arkham Asylum. Arkham City dismantled months ago, although the ruins were still inhabited by the filth of the city. It had taken him weeks to track down some of the more dangerous inmates that had escaped. A few he hadn't been able to recover. Lost in he chaos that had ensued that night. Joker wasn't one of them.

The week it happened, a few weeks ago, had been quiet for Batman, yet for Bruce Wayne, it was stressful in ways he wasn't used to dealing with. He had a party. Had to throw one to be precise, and Alfred had come down with the flu. While there isn't normally much for Alfred to do. He would make a few calls. Bring in a team. Let them do their thing. It seemed when Bruce did it, things just went to hell, everything had to go wrong. The decorator got sick half way through preparations. The DJ they hired was shot. By his girlfriend. Twelve hours before the party. The shipment of wine was snowed out never being delivered. Mostly it just seemed everyone was getting sick, but the list went on. One ridiculous call after another from the panicking employees. Bruce was ready to tear his hair out by the time the party had actually started. When the first pompous rich man shook his hand he had changed his preference. He'd rather be out keeping the streets of Gotham clean. Maybe punching in a few faces, thats what looking at these haughty men made him feel like doing. Everything seemed to be running smoothly though. Even though half of the party was impromptu.

Bruce was just now standing in a crowded circle. A blonde actress clutching his arm a little too tightly. Her pastel pink dress clashing horribly with his burgundy tie. They didn't get the same memo. The men around him held onto their own dates, talking shop, laughing at their own perverse jokes and playful jargon. Bruce would give anything to leave this party early. Unfortunately Alfred was still sick so he couldn't even pawn the duties of host onto the man. Snatching a glass of champagne form a passing tray he drank half of it in one swig, his date giving him a side glance at the action. Her well manicured brows furrowing. The unmistakable sound of gun shots shattered through the chattering and music. Silencing the men, the crowd, the horrible band they had booked last second.

The jarring sound stopped his heart, his body instantly pumping with adrenaline. Everyone around him dropped to the ground. His arm sagging down as his date ducked with the rest of the people. Bruce spun around searching for the cause attempting to tug his jacket sleeve out of the woman's scared clutches. His brain instantly sorted through how this could happen, how weapons had made their way into his party. He was always meticulous about security. Wracking his brain he stopped on the call he had received about the change in his head of security. His usual man coming down with the flu like everyone else. This, obviously, had been planned however, and Bruce wondered if Peter was actually sick or if he was dead. Around he room in various places stood men wearing contorted clown masks. A clown on each exit, stopping anyone from rushing out with their automatic guns. Bruce swallowed hard. Out of all the madmen in this city it had to be the one he couldn't bargain with.

"Bruce! Get down!" His date hissed from beside him and the playboy was suddenly reminded of just that. He wasn't Batman right now. He was Bruce Wayne. Bruce put his hands up steadily lowering to his knees aware of the henchclown stalking towards him from behind. Suddenly one of the men from the crowd stood up. His head bowed, his back turned towards the billionaire. Slowly the large coat was slipped off revealing a signature purple suit underneath. A brown wig was pulled off the man's head, green hair shaken in slow motion. Turning around just as lazily, sensually, the Jokers eyes met Bruce's a wide grin spilling across that scared face and Bruce froze half way to the floor.

"Sit down pretty boy." The Joker crooned his machine gun aimed towards the ceiling, cocked over his shoulder, his voice reverberating around the silent room. Bruce knelt down with the rest of the normal human beings. Feeling just as vulnerable as they did, but entirely more useless as the Joker clicked his tongue.

"What a B. E. A. Utiful group of people we have here!" The madman shouted dancing around the cowering people. He stepped across the woman and men, the party goers too afraid to even scamper away from his boots as he passed them, crushing the hands of those too slow or too afraid to move with in his presence. He swung the gun around pointing it at various people, eliciting gasps and whimpers from the crowd. They had all seen the last party. They knew the Clown Prince killed at the drop of a hat. The Joker mocked them as he went.

"Love the dress."

"Who's your tailor?"

"You sell your kid for those earrings?"

"How many puppies did you need for that? Mine took sixteen. Prue bred of course. Only the best for me, myself and I."

"I wanted to look like that once. So I cut this girl's face off. Best Halloween, ever." The Joker taunted skipping through the crowd. Bruce's heart sank as the Joker came closer with every step, diminishing his chances of slipping out undetected. The clowns he could fool, The Joker was a different story. Finally with a pivot the slim man stopped with finality in front of him, his coat tail slapping his face as he gave the crowd a twirl, and Bruce knew it would be impossible to leave, it appeared he was the main entertainment for the night. The focal point of this attack. The Joker paused abruptly mid spin as if frozen in time. Abruptly he snarled at the people near his feet his hands curling into claws. They instantly scampered away with screams of terror, leaving the man with plenty of leg room. Cackling laughter echoed through the quiet hall, the crowd gazing on in horror.

"Didn't even have to say, boo!" The Joker snapped into Bruce's personal space. Bruce realized too late that his startled reaction was a second too slow. Everyone had already cowered away from the clown by the time the womanizer had done the same. Joker frowned with pursed lips, humming, leaning forward, his face only inches from Bruce's, his eyes calculating. Bruce avoided eye contact at all costs, playing the quivering playboy, knowing that one more slip and he was finished. The Joker would figure it out.

"Loooovely party you have here Brucey babe! I'm sur-prised you pulled it together so well. Considering all the trouble I went through to put a little... Uh, chaos, in your life." The madman giggled, his voice easily projected through the entire hall, along with his accompanying maniacal laughter. Bruce squashed down the irritated glare that threatened his features. So all of that had been The Joker. Of course. Alfred never gets sick, it was a shock he had contracted the virus in the first place. Bruce should have known. Damn it he should have known. The Joker started clapping. Leather gloves slapping against each other as the mad man straightened.

"Well done!" The Architect of Anarchy turned his back to Bruce, and the dark haired male had to resist the impulse to attack the mad man. Knowing that even if he did get The Joker in a head lock, divested him of his weapon, he was still wide open for a gun shot. The clown prince slunk away from him, taking any thoughts of saving this situation with him.

"How is everyone enjoying the party so far? Hmm?" The Joker's smile quickly slipped off his face as the crowd remained silent, only muffled sobs audible over the henchman's heavy breathing.

"I asked you a question sweetheart." The madman said darkly cocking the machine gun on his hip, pointing the barrel into a woman's face.

"Please." The woman sobbed and the Joker sneered in disappointment, finger tightening on the trigger.

"Boooooring." He sighed ready to blow the woman's head clean off. Probably taking a few others out in the spray.

"Don't!"

The Joker snapped around his attention zeroing in on the chiseled billionaire. Red lips pulled into a smirk, the white face tilted curiously, green hair sticking to the paint.

"All beauty and brawn huh?" The Joker chuckled, walking back towards the playboy. Relief and realization wared inside the taller male as the other approached. Placing the tip of his machine gun under Bruce's masculine chin he tilted the man's face up. Bruce fought the urge to meet The Joker's mad driven eyes.

"How about you cupcake? Enjoying your party so far?" The smaller male stage whispered leaning in close. Bruce gritted his teeth knowing he needed to say something but unsure what. The cold press of metal a threatening reminder against his skin. The Joker's finger tightened threateningly on the trigger a disappointed look on his face.

"A blast." Bruce exhaled quietly, his adams apple bobbing when he attempted to swallow, his neck tilted at an awkward angle. The Joker's finger eased off trigger. Surprised Bruce looked up against his better judgment meeting those laughing green eyes. The eyes that ate any sanity they could find, piercing into your soul to search, search for the things you hide away. Bruce ripped his eyes away.

"Its a real riot." The playboy tacked on at the amusement he had seen in The Jokers eyes, hoping if he kept the Joker entertained long enough... pain exploded in his head, the butt of a gun slamming into his unprotected cheek, and stars danced across his eyes. His hands slapped painfully against the tiled floor, thankful that his date had scurried back farther then he had. Her hands still clutched the back of his jacket however. Her fearful shivers tugging it gently.

"Only the boss makes the jokes." A scratchy voice said.

"Hey!" The shout was punctuated by a spray of gun shots that echoed through the hall, pulling screams from many guests. There was a thud beside him, something bounced off his side.

"Hands off the merchandise." The Joker whined like a child who almost lost their favorite toy. Bruce's head snapped back around feeling only slight relief at the clown henchman's fallen body, chest littered with holes. At least it wasn't an innocent. It was still a life though. He placed a hand on his cheek coming away with blood, black spots still danced erratically through his sight, he blinked several times trying to chase them away, along with the throbbing pain taking residence in his skull.

"Sorry sweetheart my men can get a little grabby. Not that we blame them right?" The Joker winked at him, the gun cocked on his hip again.

"He's insane." A man whispered in awe, just loud enough for The Joker to hear. Bruce wanted to bash his head against the tiles despite the pain, why were people so stupid? Suicidal?

"Who said that?" The Joker whipped around scanning the crowd with his eyes and gun.

"Want to know how i got these scars? Ha! Better yet. Ill show you! Was it yoooou?" The Joker sang picking up an older man by the jacket demonstrating just how misconceiving his smaller frame could be. The man shook his head violently tears running down his wrinkled face.

"Ah, who cares who it was! Want to have some fun old man?" The madman ask darkly, pulling out a knife. Bruce still couldn't to for the gun on the henchclown. Even though it was right next to his hand. The madman placed the knife against the whimpering man's cheek, trailing it lovingly back and forth a few times. The moment he... he what? Shot The Joker? Bruce clenched his fists.

"Our play date over already?" Bruce panicked calling out just as the joker broke skin. The people around him gasped, his date finally letting go of his jacket to lean away from him. The Joker froze for a second blood trailed down the blade of the knife. Then a grin broke out across his face. He squealed in joy, a visible shiver running up his spine as he violently threw the elder back to the floor. Pure insane, excited, laughter echoed through the hall accentuated by squeals of excitement. Pocketing the knife The Joker skipped back over, covering the small distance quickly. A purple leather gloved hand shot out fisting dark stands. The Joker tore Bruce's head back by the hair.

"Bruce baaaaaby. We're just getting started." The Joker whispered darkly, then everything stopped. Slowed. The shuffling of the henchmen, the sobbing of the crowd, silenced. The smaller male leaned forward a bit a leering smile on his face, then he went ridged. His hand tightening in Bruce's hair. Glass shattered in the background. A stinging pain hit Bruce's leg. Bruce watched in fascination as the clown's lipstick trickled down his pale chin. Watched in horror as crimson bubbled out of the clown's mouth slipping past his red smile spilling down his chin. The Joker coughed splattering blood across Bruce's face. Warm droplets making the billionaire blink.

"Bruce." The man gasped weakly, blood frothing at his lips, and everything speed back up. The joker fell forward swiftly, and Bruce surged up to catch him. Glass tinkled onto the ground, cried of pain echoed through the hall. Warmth drenching through Bruce's jacket sleeves, down the front of his dress shirt. Screams filled the hall accompanied by gruff shouts of confused curses. Chaos suddenly reigned around them. Bruce lowered The Joker to the ground, flipping the man over carefully. Crimson seeped into his green vest, purple jacket, swiftly making its way to the tiled floor. Bruce's hands instantly applied pressure on the clown's gushing wound. Unable to look away from the garish sight the man's blood streaked face made. Someone tugged at his shoulder and he shrugged them off. The Joker's lips trembled before his eyes rolled back in his head. Bubbles slipped past those parted lips one more time then The Joker's eyes closed his hand going limp on his chest where he was clawing at the wound.

"Bruce what are you doing? Bruce stop! Just let the bastard die!" Someone shouted from beside him. Tugging violently at his arm. He ignored them pushing harder against the wound, The Jokers breathing sounding wet and harsh.

"Master Bruce!" Shocked Bruce looked up. Alfred danced towards him through the fleeing crowd.

"Alfred. Call an ambulance. Get your med kit. We need blood."

"At once sir." His butler said weekly, his skin still pale.

"Bruce just let him die." Someone said again and Bruce slapped them away harshly. He was vaguely aware of the flashing lights. White, blue and red. He knew the henchmen had scattered. The party goers had either fled or were fleeing. The Joker's bloody lips, soaked jacket, and stilled breathing. Fear shot through Bruce. He wasn't going to let another person die. Not if he could help it. When the tugging at his arm came again he snapped his hand out catching his date's pale thin wrist, blood smearing over her expensive bracelet. Tugging her hand down he placed it on The Joker's wound. The woman tried to tug her hand away with an indignant horrified shout. Bruce fixed her with a serious stare.

"Help me."

"I'd help you. Not him. Hes a mass murderer. Bruce. Let him die!"

"I can't."

"Why?"

"I just can't!" Seeing the disgust on the woman's face Bruce knew he was getting nowhere.

"If you don't put pressure on his wound I will make sure you never, ever, work in the entertainment industry. Not even for porn." Bruce tacked on at the actress's wide eyed stare. The woman shakily placed her hands against the wound. Shock obviously taking her over as she pressed down. More lights flashed. Were constantly flashing. Bruce checked the clown's pulse. The smaller man was obviously not breathing, but his pulse was weak. Shifting positions he leaned over The Joker, tilting the white face back. Taking a deep breath he placed his lips against the blood lined ones. Ignoring the metallic taste he exhaled. Sending his air into The Joker's lungs. It was an awkward position. His date was in his way. He exhaled into the Joker three more times, moving to pump his chest. Alfred arrived at that point. He quickly folded the male's pale arm away from his chest. Taping for a vain the elder man slipped in an IV. Holding a blood bag up he handed it to the girl, who looked grateful for the change in task. Alfred took Bruce's spot making the dark haired male move over. He reapplied pressure to The Joker's wound just as Bruce switched back to the clown's mouth. Bruce wasn't sure how many more rotations of CPR he did until the paramedics arrived. The Dark Detective noticed them immediately, noticed their reluctance. Fixing them down with the same stare he gave the actress he gritted his teeth at them. He didn't have time for this. They didn't have time for this.

"If he dies. I will strip you of your jobs. Any schooling you've had will be worth nothing. Just a pile of debts and no way to pay for them." The paramedics jumped into action immediately taking over the situation. Bruce fell back as they rushed around the fallen clown. He leaned back on his hands just noticing how much his leg hurt. Looking down he wasn't sure if the blood staining his dress pants was his or the clowns. Sighing he let his head fall back as they carried the clown away on a stretcher. It took him a moment to realize that those flashing lights were sporadic. Opening his eyes he took in the reporters snapping pictures of him. Alfred looked queasy beside him. One hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. More to lean against the sturdy younger male then to comfort him. Bruce covered that hand with his own meeting the old man's tired eyes, he swallowed hard.

"Alfred. What just happened?" Bruce asked pointlessly, taking in the chaos around them.

"Peter called, he informed me that the man he hired for security wasn't who he had originally spoken with and I believe someone just tried to assassinate the Joker." Was the man's steely reply. Bruce nodded his head before looking around the ground beside them.

"But where's the bullet? It went straight through." Bruce speculated not seeing anything. Supposing he had a little shock of his own to deal with.

"I believe sir, it went in you." Alfred looked towards the ambulance speeding off. The police rushing in. Bruce glanced at the man confused before he realized the situation.

"Lets get you downstairs master Wayne and patch you up, before they can start questioning you." The man nodded his head in agreement shakily getting to his feet. Pain shot through his leg, blood trickled down his thigh, confirming Alfred's guess. The shock wore off half way to their destination and Bruce wondered how he could miss being shot, because it hurt like a bitch.

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I do like reviews. Comments. Concerns. Desires. ;P


	2. Chapter 2 - The Spark of Fascination

Shattered Identities

Chapter 2

The Spark of Fascination

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The night of the attack Bruce hobbled his way into the bat suit. He couldn't let the leads at the crime scene get away from him. The first stop after watching his own surveillance for the bullet's trajectory was the rooftop the assassin used. Not feeling like scaling buildings tonight, not that his body would be up to it even if he did, he simply parked in an ally close to the building, slower then usual he slipped through the night, grappling to the roof. Bruce grunted in pain as he made it to the top, scouring the area for clues, but there was nothing there. No clues, residue, boot prints, nothing. Dusting the area he didn't even find prints. Growling he painfully made his way back to his bat mobile, after a short moment he decided that maybe he should check on the Joker's condition. He was glad he did. It wasn't hard to find the operating room the Joker was held in. The horded press outside some closed doors easily gave away the hall, it was simple matter of finding the right room. Which didn't turn out that hard. A doctor was relaxing against the wall near one of the doors. His hands covered in blood a cigarette between his lips. Batman silently stalked towards him crushing the cigarette in his gloved palm before the man even noticed he was there.

"You're not supposed to smoke in here." He said gruffly, the doctor shrunk back from him raising his hands in surrender, pressing himself back against the wall.

"What's going on in there? Why are you out here?" Batman asked getting into the man's personal space.

"Nothing." The man exhaled before shaking his head pulling himself out of his shocked stupor, "Nothing is happening! Tha-thats the problem. The head surgeon wont let me stabilize him."

"The Joker?" The man nodded his head his eyes still the size of saucers.

"Why?" Batman added when the man didn't say anything more.

"I don't know, man. Maybe because its the fucking Joker. It still doesn't feel right though. I have no idea how the bastard is still alive, but he is. I stopped the major bleeding but theres still internal bleeding, he still has a collapsed lung. He needs surgery but..." Batman leaned over, peering into the room, nurses sat around looking nervous like they weren't quite sure what they should be doing anymore. While another doctor leaned casually against a counter glaring at The Joker's blood soaked body. Scowling Bruce grabbed the mans arm and kicked the door open, it slammed against the wall dramatically and every one in the room jumped, heads jerking towards them.

"Do your job." He growled out maneuvering the doctor into the room and he scrambled towards The Joker, shouting orders at the shocked assistants.

"What the fuck! What do you think, Jorden stop! Felicia!" The other doctor shouted as the nurses ignored him. He turned his attention to Batman like he was going to reprimand him, but stopped short, suddenly unsure of himself as Bruce's built body stalked towards him.

"What is going on here?" Batman growled fixing his piercing gaze on the doctor. The doctor pressed himself back against the counter leaning as far away from the cowled man as he could.

"Look Batman. Its just business okay? No one would care if this guy died, but its a pretty big bonus for the hospital if he does." Bruce's eyes narrowed.

"How much?"

"A hundred thousand."

"From who?"

"I don't know! Okay! I just got some cryptic message and half the money up front before I even realized what was happening."

"When did you get the money?"

"Sometime around eight."

"Yesterday night?"

"Well technically yes. Last night, whatever, like seven hours ago."

"What account did they transfer it to."

"Look Batman. Its a lot of money okay, just let the psycho die. It'll save more lives in the long run." The doctor pleaded with him, a look on his face like Bruce was insane.

"Which bank account?"

"The hospital's donation funds." The man said a little too quickly. Batman fisted his shirt lifting him a few inches off the ground. The man gripped his gloved hands fearfully.

"My... personal funds." He gasped out, Batman scowled, cocked his fist back ready to slam it into the man's face when suddenly the Joker flat lined. The high pitched tone making him falter. He turned around and the other doctor was staring panic stricken towards the two.

"I, I can't do this by myself." He stuttered blood splatted across his face now. The Vigilante frowned turning back to the man in his grasp.

"Fix him and I'll double it." Bruce decided, he didn't have time to convince the man.

"I don't think – ." Batman pushed him harshly towards the operating table as blood gurgled out of the Joker's lips, his body seizing on the table. The man stumbled quickly flipping around keeping Bruce in his sights. The vigilante's leg gave a painful throb.

"If you don't, I'll strip you of your Job, and beat the shit out of you."

"What if they strip me of my life?" Bruce glared at the man. They probably would if they got the chance.

"They wont."

"How do you know?!"

"Because I'll find them. Do your job. Two hundred thousand." The doctor stood for a second before nodding, looking skeptical, but he finally turned to help his colleague, at the other doctors pleading. Batman stuck around watching them stabilize and patch up the Joker's insides. His leg protested painfully against the constant standing. Once the Joker was stable and he had both doctors word the Clown would remain that way, he left the building. Contacting Barbra immediately he had her trace the money trail in the man's account, and hack the hospital cameras to put an alarm on the Joker's vital signs. The money trail lead back to a small Chinese restaurant in Downtown Gotham. Bruce thanked Barbra and her abilities. Planning on paying the restaurant a visit when his leg wasn't quite protesting as violently as it currently was.

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Bruce had a vague knowledge of what the morning news would be the day after his party. Vales always covered The Joker's attacks, sometimes even while they were happening. He knew it may play him as the bad guy, as him aiding The Joker, simply because he saved the dying man. He hadn't prepared himself, however, for the image on the front cover of the Gotham Gazette. His leg was killing him, it happened when you had to cut out a bullet. He had stiffly made his way down to breakfast, Alfred making his favorite to help his already sour mood. Alfred had hesitated on giving him the newspaper, urging him to eat first. The stubborn vigilante refused however, demanding the article regardless of his father figure's insistence. Alfred had thrown the paper down in front of him with an irritated sigh, still looking a little under the weather, and in no mood to keep up the argument. Bruce froze taking in the cover. There in black and white he knelt kissing The Joker as chaos reigned around them, one hand under the man's head tilting it backwards. He was opening his airway, but the camera didn't care about that, the angle almost intentionally making it hard to tell what he was actually doing. Bruce's lips tightened as he took it in. Needless to say, he pushed his breakfast away from him, nausea taking hold, realizing just how bad this entire situation had panned out to be. If Alfred didn't have his hands pressed against The Joker's chest looking serious and sickly pale, there would have been no argument, it would have been impossible to convince the city he wasn't making out with the dying villain. Thanks to Alfred it was still salvageable, maybe.

In bold letters by the image it said 'more on page twelve.' Reluctantly he turned the pages, the next picture they had plastered on the newspaper was entirely morbid and Bruce worried it would ruin his careless playboy image completely. It also did nothing to hold up the story he was going to feed the city when they screamed for his blood. This one was of his profile, still kneeling beside The Joker. Bruce was sure the paramedics were rushing in but they were cut from the scene. It was just Bruce and The Joker. Yes, Alfred's hands were still covering the clown's wound beside him, but he wasn't in the shot, covered by Bruce's broad shoulders. The vigilante was staring ahead, probably at the EMTs, brows furrowed, eyes narrowed, lips tight, determined. His face was covered in blood, he was covered in blood, his shirt, jacket, hands. It trailed down his chin, trickled along his neck. It almost looked like he had bathed in it, lapped it up and smeared it around, just for fun. It was creepy, disturbing, insane, and he covered the picture almost immediately. Trying to scrub the sight from his mind. Instead he ignored the images going on to read the article. Which was titled 'Billionaire Playboy or Billionaire Clown Toy? The Joker strikes again!'

_Last night the city of Gotham was harrowed by the Clown Prince of Crime! You heard right. The madman that escaped about a month ago finally made his debut at Bruce Wayne's Christmas Extravaganza. Which I must mention wasn't quite up to par for the playboy's usual bashes. Eyewitness reports say The Joker and his crew crept in with the crowd, fooling all of the security protocols Bruce Wayne normally has in place. Some find it rather hard to believe that the man simply was slacking on his security, since normally the party goers complain about how long it takes to get to the actual party! With the purse searches and random pat downs its hard to believe that these criminals simply slipped past security. Which leads some to question how the Clown actually made it in. Did Bruce himself have something to do with this? Is there something going on here that the City of Gotham doesn't know about? Fear not readers I will get to the bottom of this! After a great unveiling, my eyewitnesses tell me that The Joker spent an inordinate amount of time speaking with the billionaire. One, who claims to have been closest to the actual interaction says that our favorite socialite was even exchanging playful banter with the mad man! And he was getting away with it! Not only that, but the our resident Clown killed one of his own henchman when the poor minion decided to punish Bruce out of turn. Poor henchman! Maybe not so much. He was a criminal after all. Which leads me to why the City of Gotham has been so outraged this morning, and they have a right to! The Joker, madman and mass murderer, was shot by a long range weapon during his take over at Wayne's party! Who shot the Clown and why is still under investigation, and the police have divulged no information at this time, but unlike the rest of the world who ran for their lives, witnesses say Bruce Wayne stayed to save The Joker. You read that right my dear people, Bruce Wayne saved the Joker! Bruce allegedly gave the Clown CPR (Page 1), but it doesn't quite look like simple CPR now does it? And why would the Billionaire even want to save The Joker?! What drove him to save this madman? Is there something between them we aren't aware of? With that expression its hard to tell. (Page 12) Don't worry or fret Gothamites! I, Vicki Vale will get to the bottom of these chilling events and we will count it a blessing that the only people gravely injured during the potentially catastrophic events where the Clown's henchman, Dillan Hollands, and the Prince of Crime himself. Although dozens were injured this has seemed to be one of the lowest casualty attacks the Clown has ever pulled. Rest easy Gotham he is back behind bars, or a padded cell, as the case may be and hopefully wont be out for quite awhile, if ever. Lets cross our fingers and give Arkham Asylum some funding to keep that madman locked away! For more information on how to donate turn to page 22._

Bruce scowled, the obvious hints at him and The Joker being in cohorts with each other made him even more nauseous and he left the table, despite Alfred's adamant protests that he needed his strength. Bruce knew Vale would want an interview and he was definitely going to give it to her, he needed to clean this mess up before it got out of hand, and a few hours later he wasn't let down. She did call him, barely twelve hours after the incident, which he was expecting, ever the journalistic bloodhound. Unfortunately all the news stations seemed to be airing was the attack from last night, he instantly consented to the interview and she sped over in record time. Bruce let Alfred answer the door, he didn't want the press getting wind of his injury. The last thing he needed was for this story be turned into two lovers being romantically shot with the same bullet, or some bullshit.

Vicki Vale appeared in the door way exchanging pleasantries with Alfred, recorder in pocket, he watched her press the button subtly as she entered the room.

"Vicki. Its been awhile since you've beaten at my door." Bruce said playfully. Watching her sway her hips for him as she moved farther into the room. He gave her what she wanted, giving her an appreciative one over.

"It didn't take much of a beating." She countered taking a seat in the armchair next to him, making sure he could see plenty of leg.

"Well, I would be lying if I didn't say the article you wrote was a... tad bit disturbing. I realize what I did wasn't quite..." Bruce trailed off skillfully, breaking eye contact. Vale touched his hand comfortingly.

"I'm sorry Bruce. I had to play the story that everyone wanted to hear. Now that thats over I can actually tell them what happened. Which is why I'm here." Bruce played slightly hurt letting his playboy pout take center stage.

"Alright. I get it, but really? I mean... No, I saw the picture, I get it."

"It did look pretty bad, probably just a really good photographer right? So tell me. What really happened?" She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back giving her a shy thankful smile.

"I, this entire party was not." He huffed, "I had to plan it. You can imagine how that went." Bruce said with a little laugh and Vicky gave him a smile.

"I bet." She said shaking her head in disbelief.

"Everything was going wrong, I mean Alfred normally takes care of everything, and I mean everything. Down to my tie and socks." Bruce admitted with a flippant wave of his hand.

"Yeah I noticed, I saw the pictures of you and your date." Vale nodded again and this time Bruce joined her matching her smile.

"Yeah. It was a train wreck from the start. I didn't realize that the head of security had come down with the flu. That the man he called in to take his place wasn't, well, wasn't who he was supposed to be."

"Really?" Vale asked in genuine fascination, leaning forward, he could see the sparks ignite in her eyes, already making a list of things she would track down once she left his home.

"I believe thats how he got in."

"The Joker."

"Yes, The Joker."

"Lets talk about that. You and The Joker."

"There is no me and the Joker." Vale gave him a look.

"Come on Bruce. You don't just flirt with the Joker and live to talk about it. I didn't specify what you said so I could get your side of the story, but I do know what happened." For once Bruce was actually thankful, but he supposed that could count as he way of paying him back for all the times he saved her ass.

"Isn't it obvious? I didn't want to die."

"You called him back."

"You didn't mention that in the article."

"And I should have?"

"I saved that man's life."

"Did you?" Bruce rolled his eyes leaning back in his chair, careful not to jar his leg.

"This is starting to feel like a shrink session." He complained resting his head on his forefinger and thumb.

"Do you see a lot of shrinks?"

"No. Vale let's stay on topic."

"The topic is you and the Joker." Bruce tilted his head back in exaggerated annoyance.

"Fine. I did flirt. If stuttering what he wanted to hear, and then not getting shot because the crazy son of a bitch actually like it can be considered flirting."

"I don't think, what was it... 'Is our play date over already?' is considered stuttering, Bruce." It dawned

"I, I did, but, I couldn't just sit there and watch that man get hurt. It was my party. I was the reason he was there. The Joker hadn't killed me yet, I figured I had a better shot." Bruce finished lamely, "Your right, it wasn't the smartest move. But nothing I did that night was really."

"So you saved that man." She asked skeptically.

"Yes."

"Risking your own life."

"Yes." Vale leaned closer with a wondering look on her face.

"Why?" She stated and that was the burning question.

"Because it, I... I didn't want..." He tried keeping his gaze on the table, breaking off mystically, and Vale looked entirely confused. Good. He tapped his fingers nervously against the armrest for effect.

"Bruce you can tell me." Bruce held back a scoff at that as she rubbed his muscled back. Yeah tell a reporter everything. He licked his lips giving her a tight smile.

"I," He shook his head, and rubbed his eyes, "I didn't want to see anyone else die in front of me. Not again. Not like..." He trailed off as understanding dawned on Vicki's face. His inner Batman smirked.

"Like your parents." She said with pity.

"I can't handle that again Vicki. I... didn't handle it very well in the first place." Bruce tried to joke and Vale gave him a tight smile.

"So when the Joker – ."

"I couldn't sit there and watch. I couldn't let that happen. Couldn't see that. Regardless of who it was. I guess... I wasn't thinking straight but I – ."

"Its okay. I get it. Wow. I was really hoping you two had something going." Bruce fixed her with a legit glare.

"No and no thank you. I have a large selection of partners and you think I'd choose The Joker."

"It was more a vague hope."

"Well no, besides it would have to be some man to make me swing that way."

"So your not against that idea?"

"Vicki." Bruce warned.

"Only joking." She said holding her hands up in surrender.

"How are you coping?" She asked after a small moment of silence. Bruce shifted in his seat.

"Alfred's helping, just like last time, those pictures though, they didn't help much." He told her with a sly sideways glance.

"Sorry." Vale said sheepishly and Bruce reached over tucking one of her strawberry strands behind her ear.

"You should be." He smirked in a way he knew brought women to their knees, it didn't stop her from pressing him for details of the entire nights events, but it helped.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Vale ran with the angle of a poor terror stricken orphan Bruce Wayne still haunted by the tragedy of his childhood and Bruce thought it was over with, that the press would die out, and it technically did, little tidbits popping up every now and then over the next week. The Joker had spent the first week in intensive care. It was hard to recover from a collapsed lung even for The Joker. The madman was a fighter though, and while Bruce had made no effort to check on The Joker's condition, Batman had kept him under surveillance. It was barely a few days since the clown had been stabilized, a day since he had gained consciousness, and according to Vicki Vale the subject wasn't dead, because she published a new article, a new interview. Apparently the clown had plenty of energy to grant her an audience. It wasn't hard for Batman to get the her recordings, wasn't hard for him to hack into the surveillance system. If what the papers said were disturbing, what the tapes held were worse. They held the fascination.

Vicki Vale was seated across from the Joker, who was slumped over in a metal chair looking pale and tired. One hand rested upon the metal table between them, his hands cuffed to table, which was bolted into the floor. His fingers twitched almost as if he wanted to tap them against the solid surface but couldn't quite dredge up the energy. His other hand rested against his abdomen a few inches under the spot Bruce knew his wound was located. Vale's back was to the camera her posture rigid.

"So Joker how are you feeling? And thank you for granting me this interview." Vales voice said steadily, professionally. The Joker finally looked up from the table fixing her with an unblinking stare, a small smirk light up his face.

"I'd never turn away good publicity sugar. And I'm feeling fantastic! Nothing like having a bullet through your chest. Ill have to show you some time." He said miserably scratching at his clothing just beneath the wound.

"Really? The scar?! That would be great! Could I get a few pictures?" Vale asked excitedly and The Joker raised an eyebrow, slowly licking his lips.

"No, Darling. A bullet through your chest. A birthday present. Maybe. Whens your birthday, Cupcake?" He grumbled out fixing the woman with an amused stare.

"I, Umm, ha, thats funny." She laughed her voice shaken.

"Only if I were joking." The Clown smirked gazing at her through half lidded eyes.

"R-right, lets g-get back to topic." Vale's voice shook with unease, her head nodding, more to confirm it with herself then to the man across from her.

"So tell me why Bruce Wayne? There was a party just last week held by the Mayor. Why not crash his ball?" The Joker's lips pulled into a grin.

"Really? The Mayor? Have you seen that whale? No, no, no, no no. I was looking for a change of scenery! It was a beautiful one at that." The Joker replied with almost as much zeal as he usually spoke with.

"So. You," Vale laughed nervously again shaking her head, "I, I don't understand. You choose the Bruce Wayne party because?" Joker inhaled loudly through his nose, pursing his lips before exhaling, annoyed.

"I was bored buttercup." The Joker stated flatly, obviously tired of the line of questions, or maybe just tired in general.

"Right. Okay so, do you know who shot you? Any Ideas?"

"I could hazard a few guesses."

"Really?" Vale said enthusiastically leaning forward a bit, "Who do you suspect?" The Joker let out a few quiet chuckles.

"All of Gotham of course. Come on! I'm surprised it's only happened once! Well succeeded anyway." The Joker trailed off darkly. Joker shifted uncomfortably, a little grimace making its way onto his scared features for a split second.

"Are you sure – ."

"Don't finish that sentence sweetheart. I'm not in the mood." Vale snapped her jaws shut with an audible click. Taking a few seconds to regain her bearings.

"Okay, what, um, what do you remember after being shot? Were you scared?" Joker rolled his eyes, it was obvious he couldn't think this woman was any more dumb. Bruce knew that if the Joker was free right now he would have already murdered her.

"Scared? Really? No, don't be ridiculous! It did hurt like a bitch though! I was definitely surprised! Now that doesn't happen every day. I remember starry blue eyes and some strong arms." The Clown said dreamily.

"Then I was choking on my own blood!" The Joker broke into a fit of laughter, which quickly died out with a pained gasp, and an angry growl.

"Right." Vale said quietly barely heard in the quiet of the room.

"Bruce caught you. Is that who your talking about?"

"What? Oh yes, Brucey Babe. I remember him." The Joker trailed off getting a far away look on his makeup free face.

"I have some pictures. I was thinking you might want to look at them."

"Do you now?" He leaned forward with a grin. "I love show and tell. So do show, and do tell." Vale leaned away from him with another nervous laugh.

"Of course, let me, uh. Here." Vale shuffled around in her purse pulling out some printed pictures. She handed a few to the Joker who swiped them from her hand impatiently. He flipped through them quickly.

"Boring. I see myself covered in blood quite often sunshine. Try again." He scowled throwing them onto the table so they slid into the red head's lap.

"I have a few of – ." Vale was saying, already halfway to handing The Joker a new group of pictures.

"Oh ho ho! Please tell me they're of that muscled man! Yeah? Now we're talking!" There was a screech of metal as he slid his cuffed wrist across the table. "Give em' here sweetheart." He bumped his chest against the table and hissed in pain recoiling back into his seat, one hand placed tenderly over his injury, he tilted his head up a bit to glare at her through darkened eyes.

"Don't make me come over there." He threatened with a small smirk, papers slid over the metal table as Vale tossed him the pictures unwilling to get into his space in anyway.

"Oh yes! Would you look at that! Never knew the playboy could look quite so dashing in red. Is that mine?" The Joker asked cocking his head to the side he fixed Vale with a speculative look.

"I'm sorry?" Vale asked confused and the Joker rolled his eyes.

"The blood, Sugar Plum."

"Oh, I, yes, yes I believe it is, Bruce wasn't vitally injured from what I know." The Joker kept his head cocked, raised an eyebrow, and Vale shifted unsteadily under his unblinking gaze. Slowly he shifted his eyes back to the image pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes.

"Is... something wrong?" Vale asked after about half a minute of The Joker's silence. The madman just shook his head softly.

"No." Joker replied quietly in a knowing tone, a little smile tugging his lips. "Nothing at all." Vale didn't seem to be buying it and leaned forward to get a better view of the picture he was looking at.

"Was he injured? I interviewed him he looked fine. Is there something you can tell me? Did you hurt him?" The Joker chuckled a few times, cutting it off again with an irritated look, his hand holding his chest. He looked over at the woman running his tongue over his bottom lip.

"Anything? To tell you?" He smiled, "Nope, not here. I have nothing of, Immm-port for you. Him though." He turned his attention back to the picture with a look of fascination. "So that is mine?" Joker exhaled in awe. "So he what? Star – ." The Joker started as he shuffled through the pictures stopping on one suddenly, "Oh, oh he did." He said with a satisfied smirk. Vale shifted uncomfortably again.

"I'm sorry?" Vale said not quite following.

"He actually did it."

"Did what?"

"Saved me." The Joker tried to laugh again. "He actually saved me. You must have had a riot with that one."

"It was a good story yes. So what do you think of Bruce Wayne. The people of Gotham found it interesting you didn't kill him."

"Why would I?" The Joker asked genuinely confused.

"Well you. Normally, thats what you do, you, kill people. When, you, you know, when they speak, or move wrong." She trailed off quietly unsure of herself.

"Then isn't it obvious? That man was a riot! You should have seen him! Barely blinked twice really." The Joker trailed off going back to admiring the picture.

"So, is there anything you'd like to say to Bruce? You'd want him to know? Maybe thank him?" Vale asked after a few more moments of silence, only broken by the soft shuffle of paper as the Joker leafed through the pictures.

"Nothing that I can't say to his face." The Joker whispered absently, taking in every detail of every shot before moving to the next.

"I'm sure that will be quite awhile. You're going back to Arkham. Do you plan on escaping again?" Joker Scoffed.

"What do you think Blossom?" The Joker asked dryly leaning back against the metal armrest of his chair, still looking through the pictures. "And he will be my first stop! Our play date was cut short you see and we were having such fun!" He kicked one leg up over the other arm rest, leaving his other straightened out, keeping pressure off his wound, he unveiled another photo.

"Oh? Oh." The Joker exhaled faintly. "This one is perfect." He threw the rest of the pictures onto the table. "Look. Just look at him. Look. At. Him!" He held the picture out so Vale could see it.

"I, uh, I can see him. He is, um, definitely, covered in blood." She finished with a tight smile that was more of a grimace. Bruce tried to zoom in, but the video from the surveillance camera was too blurry to make out the picture.

"If only his eyes were open. Or it was a front view! Oh if he were shirtless!" The Joker spouted admiring the picture again.

"Are you... I mean, do you prefer, um, men, I suppose?" Vale asked the fear evident in her voice, showing she realized just how edgy her question was, and remembered just who she was talking to. Joker fixed Vale with a disbelieving look. Like she was the crazy one.

"Why miss Vale! Men, woman, hermaphrodites, trans gender. Sweetheart does it really matter? I mean REALLY matter? They all die the same way! With a smile on their faces!" The Joker cackled again, he took a sharp inhale of breath, this time slamming his hand against the table angrily, holding a hand against his chest in pain.

"This is really annoying." He muttered to himself scowling at the picture for all of two seconds before his face slipped to a relaxed position again as he stared at the photo.

"I um," It was obvious this interview was getting to Vale as she didn't ask anything else, let alone she really wasn't getting much from the madman except that he might think Bruce was hot. Silence took hold of the room as the Joker continued to stare at the picture. His lips parted as he trailed a finger down the side of the photo. Then those fingers trailed along his bottom lip. Vale was searching for something in her purse, and a second later she pulled out a phone. Quietly she flipped it open and Bruce had a sinking feeling just before the shutter sound echoed through the room. The Joker's previously glazed eyes snapped to attention slowly zeroing in on the reporter across from him.

"I wasn't ready for that one. I don't even have my face on." The Joker said darkly setting the picture gently on top of the table. "Why don't you give that here and we wont have any problems, ey?"

"It's just for the paper. You agreed to this interview. That includes a photo." The Joker gave her a tight smile tilting his head back he let his hand drop, outstretched, against the table. His palm waiting. He wriggled his fingers a few times and Vale just stared at him, The Joker scowled.

"I don't really think you. Quite. Understand. What I'm saying." The Joker growled turning his hand around he clawed at the table. He let his foot slip back onto the ground, sitting up again.

"Hand it over Toots and no one gets hurt." The Joker leaned over the table placing his other hand against the smooth surface.

"I really think that – ." There was a harsh slap of flesh against metal and Vale gasped. The Joker's hand coming down on the table violently sending a few pictures sailing off the edge.

"No! No." The Joker cut her off, giving her a smile, he lifted one hand up his index finger a little more rigid then the rest, silencing her.

"I'll give you some time, yeah? Lets say, mmn, ten seconds. You know how to count right. Lets count down together!" He cocked his head to the side with a grin, placing his hand back onto the table.

"Ten!" He said through his teeth.

"Its just a picture, look I'll – ."

"Nine!" His scars pulling as the corner of his mouth twitched.

" – take some more of you when – ."

"Eight." He accentuated the tee and leaned farther forward.

" – ever your ready. What do you say?"

"Seven." The madman grew more serious, his playful tone evaporating, his body sinking closer to the table.

"Seriously. Joker. Look I'll delete it."

"Six." Bruce noticed the Clown's hands moving, a small tinkling of metal.

"Okay fine. I think we're both responsible – ." Vale was losing her professional cool, fear and panic creeping into her voice. About time Bruce thought.

"Five."

" – adults here, lets work this out. Its just a phone right?"

"Four, three, two, one." Joker finished quickly. Vale screamed as The Joker suddenly launched himself across the table. Easily scrambling across it, despite his wound.

"Oh my god! Someone stop him! What are you doing?!" Vale screamed as the Joker slid to the ground in front of her. His hand shot forward easily catching one of the redhead's flailing ones. "Let me go! Guards!"

"Just be a good little girl and hand it over already." The Joker hissed sounding distracted as he wrestled with her arm. They grappled around and eventually The Joker's back was to the camera, Vale's horrified face in full view.

"Please don't hurt me!" Something cracked and Vale screamed in pain dropping to the floor. The Joker fiddled with something in his hands. There was a bang, stomping boots and gruff shouts as the door slammed open. The Joker danced away from the guards shoving something into his mouth, dropping the phone to the ground. Seconds later he spat the remains of the phone's memory card onto the ground just as the guards rushed towards him.

"Whoa boys! Calm down! It was just a little argument." They shoved their way past the table taking hold of either of his arms which he had held up in surrender. One of the went to cuff him. "Whoa, watch the goods. Hey don't touch that!" Joker snarled as one of the men nearly knocked over the table. The Joker kicked his chair which slammed into one of the guards knees sending him tumbling over, crashing to the ground with the chair. The Joker lunged forward ripping out of the other guards grip, but another guard intercepted him. The Joker grabbed the man's wrist slamming his hand into the man's elbow. Swiftly the man was down with a shout of pain, his arm hanging unnaturally. The Joker danced out of the previous guards grip again, snatching the picture off the table just as three guards threw themselves at the Joker, pinning him in between their bodies.

"Hands off! If you bend it!" The Joker hissed and a man screamed jerking away from the clown holding his neck. The Joker spat out a chunk of skin. Blood running down his mouth. He quickly slipped the picture under his shirt on the opposite side of his now bleeding wound. His breathing wheezed as the guards finally cuffed his hands.

"Alright! Alright! Lets all play nice! See we're okay? We're okay right?!" Joker tried to cackle only to go into another coughing fit, this time spitting up blood. It was relatively quiet for a several seconds, only quiet curses and a few sobs or groans of pain were heard as they moved him towards the door. Vicki heaved herself off the ground her hand held close to her body.

"What took you guys so long?" Vale angrily demanded through her tears.

"Look lady. We told you this was a stupid fucking idea. It was your funeral." The guard on the left of The Joker spoke up.

"That's what your here for! To protect me!" Vale cried indignantly.

"Yeah and what about us? He broke my fucking arm. God." The downed man said cradling his arm to his chest and the Joker got out a few chuckles.

"The interview is over. This isn't worth it." The guard on the right muttered.

"Wait. Wait! Okay fine! But, I need that picture back." There was a long silence as everyone looked at the Joker who simply scoffed.

"You touch it and I'll disembowel your entire beautiful family, extended included. Wouldn't want them to miss out on the fun!" The Joker stated, a paper was crinkled a bit as he held a hand to his hip protectively.

"Forget your picture." One of the guards stated with finality.

"But!"

"Get her out of the way." The Joker settled on a cheek splitting grin, forgoing the laughter, as a guard moved towards her.

"Thanks for the gift sweetheart! It's definitely one of the better ones. Maybe I wont kill you when I get out! Maybe."

"Shut up freak." The Guard shoved him roughly and the Joker took a sharp inhaled breath, gripping his chest.

"Hey! Don't touch me!" Vale yelled out indignantly as she was shoved out of the way and the door slammed shut cutting out The Joker's labored breathing.

"God Damn it." Vale cried at the shut door. Gingerly picking up her purse from the ground she fumbled around in it with her good hand. The sound cut off. Vale's recording over, and she walked out of the room.

Bruce rewound the surveillance tape, then paused it. The Joker sat across the metal table. Thin wrists encircled in cuffs chained to the table. The Arkham uniform already adorning his lithe figure. He was sitting sideways in his chair, slumping against the metal armrest, one leg thrown over the other. He held a picture in the air with his hand. None of this was anything too frightening or worrisome, his posture was normal. No, it was his expression. The calm, that sent fear, no, Batman was never afraid, concern gnawing at his insides. Joker was staring at the picture with a serene fascination, a sane glint in his eyes, his lips parted, fingertips tracing his scared bottom lip. Bruce knew while staring at the frozen image of the Joker that the madman was serious. His penthouse, where ever he was at, would be the first place The Joker would be when he escaped. He would delve into Bruce Wayne's history, his past, childhood, business dealings, one night stands. Into his soul. He would find every detail others had over looked... and he would know. The Joker would know. Even half way through all of that, he would know. Bruce had no choice. He had to cut this off at the source, before The Joker could take his time, before he could escaped. He needed to see the madman, as Bruce Wayne. He needed to play the most vile, idiotic, pathetic, uninterestingly unintelligent man he possibly could and maybe, just maybe, the Joker would drop this. Drop the fascination that sparked in those eerie green eyes.

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

Again. Love comments :D Reviews, stuff, presents, candy, cake, kittens. Wait what were we talking about?


	3. Chapter 3 - Dance of Fools

Whooooooos excited?!

Okay this chapter is a little out of order. I'm going to attempt to not do this in the future but, to be honest Bruce wouldn't wait a whole week to take up leads. But technically last chapter was one week later. So I'm kinda skipping back briefly. Get over it.

Note 2: I've played Batman: Arkham Asylum. I don't recall ever getting into the Maximum Security area. If we did. Let me know and I'll fix this up to match that area! Like seriously it bugs me lol.

Note 3: Last chapter I said downtown slums for the restaurant, downtown Gotham is actually not slums, I believe, if the maps I've seen are relatively correct. So it'll actually be high class downtown. That seems strange to me, but uptown held crime ally and things that just didn't seem like they belonged in ritzy places. Once Batman Arkham Knight comes out... this'll be easier and probably updated.

Shattered Identities

Chapter 3

Dance of Fools

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Batman could tell, from the looks Robin kept flashing him, that the teen knew precisely why they were here. Why they had gone out on patrol, together, only two days after Bruce had been injured. Why they were sitting on top of a fancy downtown Chinese Restaurant just before closing. They were hiding in the shadows watching the last few customers leave. Robin, clothed in his signature costume, was leaning against the back of an ornate dragon sculpture that decorated the front of the building, floor to roof. Batman stood a little ways back favoring his good leg, he leaned against a cooling unit, patiently. His apprentice tapped his foot quietly, his boundless energy hard to contain. Eventually after several minutes of silence, Robin fixed his mentor with sharp blue eyes.

"So who are we looking for?" Tim finally asked, breaking eye contact to watch the last of the crowd trickle away.

"His name is Huáng Sòng. Oracle traced the money trail back to him, well, his deceased mother. Apparently he uses this establishment to launder money and her bank account to make transfers over seas through several other accounts. I'm surprised Oracle was able to track it down. The accounts technically closed in all legal rights, yet still active." The older vigilante explained quietly, as people down below walked to their cars unaware they were being watched.

"She's good with that stuff." His apprentice said with a proud smile, Batman hummed in agreement letting a small smile tug at his own lips. Tim exhaled impatiently after a few more minutes.

"So whats the plan?" Robin asked pushing off of the sculpture, his muscles rippling under his clothes with the movement. He threw one arm over his chest, stretching the muscles only pro-wrestlers should have at his age. Bruce pushed off of the air conditioning unit and Robin's eyes snapped to him, taking in his every movement. The older male knew he was looking for any sign he needed to step in and cut Batman off from this fight. It would be one hell of a staring match but Tim was pretty stubborn when it came to his wellbeing.

"Interrogation." Batman stated deeply, walking closer to the edge as the last car pulled out of the lot, their headlights finally clicking on once they were already on the road. Robin's eyes narrowed for a second debating his options, it was obvious Bruce's leg was painful, the way he walked was stiffer then normal, his usual powerful fluid movement absent under his black Kevlar. He'd seen worse though, Batman had seen worse, he wasn't willing to deal with a grumpy Bruce all week just to ensure he didn't get a nasty bruise from getting shot in the chest a few times.

"Oh, sounds fun." The teen finally said, a smirk lighting his face for a second, making way for a more serious expression.

"I can do all the leg work." He suggested the hope obvious in his voice, his eyes. Hope that Bruce wouldn't be stubborn, injuring himself farther trying to look tough. Hope that they wouldn't argue tonight. The vigilante looked at the teen, meeting his eyes, debating as they started a staring contest, Tim refusing to lose. Batman could do what he wanted, take the lead and let Robin pick up the slack. Breaking eye contact Bruce took a deep breath. He wouldn't though, if Tim were in his place, injured and had his own teammate to take the lead, he wouldn't want him to be stubborn, take the risk, chance himself or his teammates. So Bruce nodded reluctantly and Robin raised an eyebrow, an appreciative smile gracing his lips. Sometimes The Detective hated being a role model.

"Alright! Then let's crack some skulls." The teen said darkly, slamming a fist into his palm. Batman leveled him with a disapproving gaze. It took a second for the teen to notice the attention.

"Oh, right, lets, smash some faces?" Robin tried again, raising a questioning eyebrow. Bruce kept his features blank, letting his partner sweat a little. Nodding his head he let a small smile grace his lips and Tim smiled in return, shaking his head at his mentor's antics.

"Watch the back door." The older Vigilante instructed with a jerk of his head, his side kick nodded, creeping to the back of the building without a word. They sat in silence for roughly an hour, lying in wait, Bruce could tell Tim was getting fidgety, he kept getting flashes of red from the corner of his eye, because the kid kept moving around. Finally Robin signaled him over. Batman straightened up wincing at the protesting throb his leg gave, making his way over to the teen, hoping he hadn't noticed the delay. Robin was crouched at the edge of the roof, his staff in hand, held behind his back. They gazed down at the expensive black SUV parked in the back ally. The chauffeur stood near the passengers door, waiting patiently. The back door opened a few minutes later, expelling two armed Asian men who immediately scanned the area. After a brief search of the ally way, and a nod of their heads, a heavy set Asian stepped out of the door. Robin looked towards the older male who nodded in confirmation, his muscles tensing under his black Kevlar as he crouched down, ignoring the stab of pain in his injured leg. The teen didn't wait, dropping down he made quick work of one of the armed men, breaking an arm, and the chauffeur, slamming his head against the car with a side kick, before Bruce even had time to pulled out his tranquilizer gun. He quickly shot the other armed oriental man before he could level his gun on Tim. Twisting around Robin disarmed Sòng before the man could fumble his weapon into position. Crouching down he slammed the broken armed man's head into the ground, knocking him unconsious. He stood up in time to snatch Sòng's gun out of the air, dismantling the gun in front of him, just for show. The Dark Knight rolled his eyes, dropping down gently beside them. Sòng held up his hands in surrender his eyes wide, perspiration already lining his upper lip and forehead. Robin shot Batman a curious glance, eyeing the tranq-gun. Bruce just glared at the teen, putting it away, and the kid pursed his lips at his mentors attitude, before turning back to their guest with a smirk.

"Sup boss." Robin said cracking his knuckles ominously at the man, who backed up fumbling for the door handle. The teen flexed his muscles dramatically when he folded his arms, leaning casually against the SUV.

"W-wha-what you want?" The man asked, his Chinese accent heavy, his eyes wide. He gripped the handle and Batman violently slammed a gloved hand against the door, causing the heavy set man to jump out of his skin, the sound echoing through the area, Sòng scampered away from The Bat.

"We're going to ask some questions. You're going to answer them." Batman stated, taking a few steps forward, using his height to intimidate the man, blocking the door. The Asian's eyes widened farther, his breathing becoming labored, panicked. Robin uncrossed his arms tapping his fingers against the car behind him. The sound echoing eerily through the ally way. Startled Sòng jerked his head towards the teen. Who huffed out a breath of impatience leveling the man with an irritated gaze.

"Batman promised that tonight," He said leaning forward his eyes piercing. "I get to smash some faces in. So don't make this too long, or it will be your face I'm smashing." He finished with an innocent smile, leaning back onto the SUV. Sòng's eyes widened farther.

"Did you wire money to a Dr. Joseph in return for killing the Joker?" Batman asked his voice ominous, his hand still on the door, subconsciously using it to lean on his good leg.

"I, I don't know, don't know nothing 'bout – ." Robin leapt forward smashing his fist into the man's face. Who was lucky, his fat took most of the blow, instead of his teeth. Sòng fell over regardless, the saying the bigger they are the harder they fall proving true. Song hit the ground hard his head smacking against the dirty, grime covered street. It took him several seconds to recover consciousness, drool dribbled down the Asian's cheek and Batman stepped away in disgust, barely avoiding getting the man's spit on his boots. He shot Robin a scathing look and the teen had the decency to look sheepish, scratching the back of his head.

"Too soon?" Robin asked coyly, afraid his role model would admonish him for the hit. Bruce stared at him for a few seconds, finally giving the teen an amused smile.

"Not at all." Batman said approvingly, and the teen grinned at him. The older caped crusader reached down lifting the over weight man off the ground, he faltered for a second when his leg gave a throbbing protest. He'd forgotten about that. Robin tensed, looking for a brief second like he wanted to rush to his aid, but the kid knew better. Batman didn't show weakness. The vigilante shoved the Asian against the filth covered restaurant wall and the man gasped in pain. His pudgy fingers coming up to scrape at his gloved hands.

"Lets try this again." Batman stated darkly staring the man down.

"Did you send fifty thousand dollars to a Dr. Miles Joseph?" Batman asked again with a sneer as the man clawed at his hold on him. Robin took the chance to look around them, make sure no one had noticed their little get together, Sòng was being pretty loud. The man squirmed in Bruce's grip, sweat dripping down his face. A little trail of blood making its way from the small scrape he obtained from his meeting with the ground. Sòng smelled like body-oder and dead fish, covered by cheap cologne.

"Okay okay! I did send the money. But I didn't know what for! I mean thats crazy right?!" The man rambled off laughing nervously. Giving up on prying the vigilante's grip off his shirt, he raised his hands in surrender.

"What are you talking about?" The Dark Knight asked loosening his grip a little in confusion. Trying to process the man's heavily accented words.

"That he'd pay to kill himself." The Asian admitted like it was some crazy misunderstanding, Batman pressed him harder against the wall and the man choked a little, spit oozing down his chin again.

"What are you talking about?" The Bat repeated darkly, while Robin toed one of the downed man's unconscious bodies with his boot, making sure he was still out. Reaching down he picked up the gun, dismantling that one as well.

"The Joker." Song gasped out painfully, Robin paused in his reach for the second gun.

"Yes?" Batman encouraged with a sneer, shaking the man for effect, his fat flopping, eyes rolling into his head.

"He. Hired. Me." The Asian finally gasped out and Bruce actually looked taken aback. His brows furrowed under the cowl, a frown marring his angular lips. Robin looked just as confused, but didn't let it stop him from snatching up the last gun, quickly dismantling it.

"What do you mean? The Joker? The Joker hired you to wire the money?" Batman growled out and the Asian nodded his head enthusiastically, his fat rippling with each movement.

"Yes. I can show you. We have cameras." Batman narrowed his eyes at the man. He didn't trust this guy.

"Wait here." He growled out dropping him roughly, Sòng hit the wall sliding to the ground.

"Don't even think about it." Robin smirked as the man tried to get up off the dirty pavement. Bruce walked down the ally way short distance, out of ear shot.

"Oracle." He spoke opening a link between them.

"Hey, yeah? I'm here, whats up?"

" Sòng says he has surveillance footage of the Joker requesting the money transfer." Bruce stated and there was a long pause.

"The Joker? Thats insane." Barbra stuttered in confusion.

"When is he not?"

"Thats a little too far. Even for him." The girl admitted reluctantly.

"I know, hes destructive, but... Can you hack into Sòng's surveillance? I don't want him triggering any alarms."

"Give me a second... I'm not getting anything on the network. It could be an offline server."

"If I hooked you into it could you copy the hard drive?"

"Of course. I'd need to be plugged directly into the server though."

"I'm on it."

"I'll be here." Barbra stated just before Bruce cut the line. Turning around he was meet with the sight of Robin scowling down at the man in disgust, Sòng pleading with the teen to let him go. It was almost sad seeing a grown man plead with a child. Batman stalked back to the pair and the Asian immediately shut up.

"Your servers not online." The man stared up at the older vigilante, dumbfounded, until Robin stepped towards him menacingly, cocking a fist.

"Yes. Yes. We keep them offline. Unless we need to make transfer. Smaller window." He gushed cowering into the grime of the ally, covering his face with a pudgy arm, barely fitting in his tailored suit.

"Take me to it, but don't touch anything." Bruce growled opening the door to the restaurant.

"Yes yes of course." Sòng stuttered as The Bat hauled him off the ground.

"Want me to babysit?" Robin asked gesturing to the men littering the ground, meeting Bruce's eye without hesitance.

"No. Wrap them up for the GCPD. We'll call it in when we're done."

"Got it, I'll wrap them tight and join you." Bruce nodded at the teen's words, shoving the large man into the establishment. By the time Robin had gotten done tying up the other men Batman hadn't really gotten anywhere. Despite slapping the guy around a few more times, the man was just leading him in circles, refusing to tell him where the server was located.

"Whats up?" Robin asked as he walked in to the kitchen catching sigh of Batman's annoyed form, muscles bulging through his suit, his arms crossed staring down towards the floor. Sòng was slumped to the floor, his head resting on a pile of pans stacked in between the counter and the bottom shelf. His face swollen, drool soaking into his shirt, blood streaming down the front of his face, his nose a purple mess.

"He's not talking." The Dark Knight stated leaning against a counter with his arms crossed, glaring at the man like a sulking child.

"Doesn't look like he can anymore." Tim joked and the older vigilante leveled the teen with an aggravated glare. Robin laughed shaking his head and punching the man in the arm, meeting solid muscle.

"Don't give me that look. I'll babysit this mess, you go find whatever." The younger male chuckled taking up Batman's mantle against the counter, shooing him away with a flick of his hand. The Bat glared at him for a few more seconds just for good measure before pushing off of the counter, the metal shifting under his weight.

"Call me if there's trouble." Bruce stated walking farther into the back of the restaurant.

"Only if I can't handle it." Robin called back lazily and Batman fought a frown, choosing instead to ignore his partner. Eventually he found a safe, hidden behind some ragged looking boxes. It took a few minutes to crack, then he plugged everything in and booted it up. Once Barbra was plugged in it was only a matter of seconds before they had every incriminating file, folder and deleted text document the computer had ever contained. Bruce let Robin call in the cops as he slowly made his way back to the bat mobile. His apprentice would stay out and patrol the streets. The teen had simply given him a knowing look when Batman stated he was going home to inspect the evidence. Robin stuck around long enough to make sure the police showed up to haul the men away, then he took to the roof tops, scouring the city.

XxxxxxxxxxxX

Bruce sunk into his chair in the Bat Cave, his cowl resting on the desk beside the keyboard. Barbra was decrypting the files as he rested his leg. He really shouldn't have gone out, but he needed to get to the bottom of this before it blew up in their faces. He should also take some pain medication, but he hated them, how they dulled his senses, so he decided against it. After a few minutes of silence, and rubbing the soreness in his thigh, his computer dinged, the screen lighting up.

"I think you'll want to see this." Barbra's voice said over the speakers. The detective leaned forward moving the mouse he clicked on the giant play button that popped up on his screen.

Several angles of the restaurant's dinning room sprang into view. Patrons sitting around enjoying their meals, staff members rushing around filling drinks and taking orders. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary really. Nothing happened for the next thirty seconds, then a figure strode by the windows, the door slammed open violently and The Joker danced in, his arms opened wide.

"Hell-o Gotham!" He shouted joyfully as men around the room stood up, revealing their hidden weapons, the Clown walked in farther.

"Would you look! At this fine establishment." The Prince of Crime stated spinning around to take everything in. Stopping he clicked his tongue, leveling the room with a bored stare.

"So, so, so. I!" He placed his gloved hands on his chest in exaggeration, "Need to borrow this room for a little bit so why don't all you little rich folk scamper off home?" He suggested his index and middle finger walking on air towards the door.

"Yeah, hows that sound?" The Joker asked grinning at all of the tables not containing his minions, his arms open like he was inviting them in for a hug. Slowly people crept from their seats and the Joker stepped aside letting the first brave customer creep past him, then they all rush out, shoving each other in a chaotic mess of limbs. The Clown laughed gleefully as they passed him, but nothing more. Bruce frowned, leaning against the armrest, resting his head against his hand. Something was right.

"Great! Now were is, the lovely owner? Yeah?! I got a proposition for him." The Joker giggled dancing farther into the room. Running a purple gloved hand along a table with a grin. He froze half way across the room, hand still on the table, his smile dropping instantly off his face. His eyes snapped up, fixing the staff members with a piercing glower. He ran his tongue over his teeth, cocking his head.

"No seriously, go get him." He hissed when none of the wait staff had budged. Rolling his green eyes he clapped his hands together.

"Well come on, chop chop!" The Joker insisted and everyone jumped, rushing out of the room through the back doors, into the kitchen, shoving each other out of the way. Joker inspected his gloved hands as if he could see his nails, waiting. A few minutes later Sòng came in, looking nervous, flanked by several armed men and the air became tense. Everyone held their guns a little more tightly. The Joker licked his lips giving the new arrivals a grin.

"What do you want?" Sòng asked his eyes flicking between his men and The Joker's. The Clown drummed his fingers on top of the table.

"Well lets make this easy, sweetheart. I need some money sent, to a little someone," The Clown started hopping up onto one of the tables, "And I need you to do it, I hear your the best." He insisted picking up a fork and stabbing a piece of chicken, he ripped it off the utensil, the slide of teeth against metal audible through the room. He stared the fat Asian down, chewing thoughtfully, while Sòng looked flustered.

"I don't know what your talking about." He stated and the Joker licked his lips in disappointment, pursing his lips he turned his attention to the ground for a split second. Snapping his eyes up he fixed the overweight Asian with a deadly gaze.

"I, don't feel, like playing games." He whispered darkly, hopping back off the table, dusting his pants off and straightening his jacket.

"So heres the deal, darling. You're going to transfer fifty thousand dollars to, this," The Joker pulled a slip of paper out of his jacket pocket, " Bank account." The Clown snapped his fingers and one of his men dropped a bag where Song could see it. The zipper open, revealing stacks of money. The Prince of Crime let the paper go, watching it flutter to inside the bag, joining the mound of money.

"That! Contains one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Fifty thousand of it is, yours!" The Joker pointed at the Sòng, like he had just won the grand prize.

"I hear that's more, then your, uh, usual asking price." He paused clicking his tongue, "In return." The Joker placed one gloved finger against his scarred ruby lips, the lips that slowly morphed into a sadistic grin, "You don't tell a soul I was here, or requested your, uh, services. When I give you the word you will transfer another fifty thousand, to this bank account, and I'll be out of your hair." He sung, removing the finger from his lips, both hands soring through the air, his fingers wriggling in freedom. "So what do you say, sweetheart?" He asked licking his lips, "We have a deal or what?!" The Joker shouted throwing his arms open rocking up onto his tip toes, then back down. Sòng shook his head in frustration, his fat giggling. The Joker scowled in disgust, turning his gaze to the floor, wouldn't do to kill the help.

"Fine. Fine. But if I do this, you never come back here again. If you need to speak with me you do it privately. No more ruining my business." Sòng chattered out with a scowl. The Joker licked his lips, letting his signature grin spread across his face.

"You've got a deal, sweetheart. Come on boys lets get you home before your missed." The Prince of Crime said turning his back to the other men, strolling out of the building without a care in the world. Batman paused the video and rewound it, watching it again. Something didn't seem right, but he couldn't figure it out. It was something simple, something that just, he rewound it again, leaning closer.

"Bruce?" Barbra asked after a while. The man grunted in acknowledgment still letting the video play.

"Are you seeing something I'm not? It looks like The Joker to me, as crazy as that is." She continued her befuddlement easily audible over the speakers.

"There's something off about this. I know the Joker is crazy. If anyone knows that its me, but he always has an end game Barbra. I just can't figure out what that is. I don't see what he could gain from killing himself off. Not so literally."

"I don't know Bruce. Isn't it impossible to understand insanity? Maybe he's just tired of, I don't know, being insane." She tried trailing off at the end realizing how ridiculous it sounds.

"No. No. His brand of insanity isn't... I don't know. Something is off and I'm going to figure it out."

"Well don't strain yourself too hard. Sitting around thinking is one thing, but don't go gallivanting all over the city because of this."

"I wont." Barbra laughed a little.

"I'll let you know when I believe you." She joked, still chuckling a bit.

"I'm not that big of a loose cannon am I?" Batman joked back a small smile tugging his lips.

"Lately Bruce..." Barbra started on a more serious note, but then trailed off, leaving them both in an awkward silence.

"I'll let you know if I find anything else on their hard drive." Barbra tried, attempting to cut the tension.

"Thanks." Bruce said quietly before Oracle hung up the line. His gaze fell on his cowl, looking ominous, even if it was just sitting on the table. He hated worrying the people around him, but he never could stop from pushing himself. Finding his limits. Maybe Barbra was right. Maybe he was getting too old for this, but he couldn't imagine a life without the suit. Couldn't imagine being just Bruce. That flirtatious, womanizing, dense billionaire. He rewound the video again.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Bruce stared at the man in front of him trying really hard to keep his expression neutral. He loathed when people talked to him like he was a child, he could run circles around them, yet he had to sit there and take it. Yes, it was part of his cover as Bruce Wayne, playboy idiot, but it was still annoying. The Detective had called in a board meeting for the Arkham Asylum comity, knowing full well none of them would show up. Since they never really did, they threw money at the establishment but never ventured there. Bruce Wayne had been the same, but now he had an excuse. A personal vendetta you could say. One that if the media got a hold of could pass. He was here to make sure the Joker didn't escape again.

He fought the urge to scowl at how grimy the place was as he was lead through the halls. "Given the tour" as they called it, but Bruce wasn't going to let them stop at just the fancy areas, that to be honest weren't that fancy. He needed to see the high profile cells. Maximum Security. He needed to see the Joker. Hopefully satisfy his curiosity in the playboy by a visit or two. To be honest the billionaire wasn't quite sure where all the money he had given to this place went. It almost looked the exact same as when he had been here that tragic night The Joker took control of the island. He had donated quite a bit to bring the living conditions of the patients up. Yet he could still smell the damp stench of rotting urine and dried blood. Hell there were still stains in many places where he had smashed inmate's heads against the ground. Gritting his teeth he watched the nervous orderly take him through the halls of the penitentiary, nervous because this place was such a dump. Bruce made a note to get Barbra to scope out their financial records. The man started leading him back to the front gate, the billionaire watched him walk several feet, not even noticing his lack of accompaniment. The man even made it to the door to the next area before Bruce decided to stop him.

"Wait! Wait, wait!" The Detective called after the elder man running after him he shoved his foot in between the door stopping it from shutting locking him in the courtyard, without the man.

"This isn't everything. I need to see the rest." Bruce stated pulling the door open, to see the startled elder man's face.

"The rest?" The man stuttered looking even more nervous then before.

"Yes. The rest. Now, please."

"I don't understand quite what you mean. If you'd like to take a look at the garden." Bruce fought the urge to roll his eyes, shaking his head at the man like he were a child.

"No, Maximum Security, Intensive Care, the Medical Facility. All of it."

"I'm not authorized to – ." Bruce took a steadying breath, he knew this was going to be irritating, that didn't mean he was okay with it.

"Look I get it." He said charmingly placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "How about we make a deal? You take these." Bruce pulled out a few hundred dollar bills, "And you give me that key card." The playboy stated pulling the key out of the man's shocked hands. He placed the money in the man's palm curling his fingers around it. The old guy stared at the money for a second, befuddled, before leveling Bruce with a concentrated stare.

"If you get hurt or something, it's not my fault." The orderly grunted shoving the bills into his pocket all the same. As if the playboy wouldn't be able to take care of himself, so he was making sure the billionaire understood he had nothing to do with it, wasn't his responsibility.

"No problem. How far will this get me?" Bruce twirling the card through his fingers, raising an eyebrow at the man.

"Everywhere but Maximum Security, or the labs after it." The orderly replied casting a paranoid glance around.

"The labs?" The billionaire repeated confused, he didn't remember any labs inside maximum security. They weren't on the old layout of the Asylum. The man didn't say anything to his question and Bruce nodded his head, not willing to press the issue.

"Thats fine. I'm sure I can find a way. Thank you for your time." The Detective said smoothly pushing past the man back into the corridors between the open yards. He made his way outside turning right he quickly covered the lush grounds to Intensive Treatment. Swiping the card at the door he walked inside. Once in he walked forward, meeting the eye of a security guard who gave him a once over, standing up out of his chair safely behind the bullet proof glass security box.

"What are you doing here?" The old guard called as he made his way down the ramp towards the billionaire, and Bruce held up his key card.

"I have permission to be here." He said waving the card around he walked towards the closed gates. The man scowled stalking towards the billionaire, attempting to tower over his shoulder as the playboy tried to walk down to the gate. It didn't work however since the younger man was just as tall and twice as broad.

"I don't think so pretty boy." Bruce paused in irritation turning around to face the man, instead of getting aggravated though, maybe he could get something out of this encounter. He was feeling impatient however. The guard stood near him, his hair graying, his face scared, his skin tough and wrinkled, his eyes a dull blue.

"Do you have access to Maximum Security?" The playboy asked flippantly, a pleasant smile on his face, and the guard glared intensely.

"You're not going in there." Bruce nodded his head slowly, pursing his lips.

"Uh, thats not going to work," He muttered to himself, "so, would say, five hundred dollars change your mind?" The guard laughed bitterly a scowl of disgust on his face.

"If five hundred could change my mind half of those psychos would be back on the streets." Bruce actually grinned at that, no acting required. Bruce let the childish playboy go for a second, leveling the man with a serious look, his airy tone dissipating.

"How does a promotion sound. I need men like you running things higher up. If they had your steel, we wouldn't have so many escapees." The guard scoffed crossing his arms a tight amused smile on his lips.

"Yeah and who are you?" He scoffed giving the billionaire a once over, sizing him up.

"Bruce, Bruce Wayne." He said holding his hand out to the skeptical guard.

"Hey, that's that billionaire the Joker attacked," Another guard, still in the security box, called out. Bruce fought off the need to grit his teeth in irritation, settling on a simple nod of his head instead.

"So it was you, you saved him." The old guy said darkly, hate in his eyes. Bruce took a deep breath staring at the ground for a second, trying to pull in his patience, before meeting the man's eyes again.

"I didn't want to see anyone else die. So yes. I saved him. Now I'm here to make sure he never gets out again. Ever." The guard laughed running a hand under his nose with a sniff.

"Good luck with that. And how do I know that? Huh? For all I know that reporter chick could be right. You're in league with him, besides what would a stroll down there do for you? Ease your mind? Well don't bother. He'll be out again. He always is." Bruce exhaled irritatedly through his nose at the man's suspicious tone. Squaring his shoulders he stepped up to the man staring him down.

"Do you know how much money I've donated to this Asylum?" He asked his voice steady, serious, but not deep, not like Batman's.

"No, why should I care?" This time it was Bruce's turn to laugh, shaking his head.

"Have you seen anything improved around here? Anything at all?" The man took a second to think about it, his lips tight, before shaking his head. The playboy nodded a bitter smile gracing his chiseled features.

"Why is that, you think? I've donated hundreds of thousands into fixing this place up. Where does it all go?" He asked gesturing his arms around the establishment.

"So I, am going to take a stroll around. You can pretend like you never saw me and when I get out. I'm going to track down where all that money went and you know what I'm going to do?" Bruce asked stepping into the man's personal space, who raised an amused eyebrow, not backing away from the billionaire like Bruce was used to.

"I'm going to tear this place apart brick by brick until the slime and corruption are sniffed out, then I'm going to burn them to the ground. So, let me ask again. Would you like a promotion, or not?" The man's jaw tightened as he stared down Bruce who didn't budge under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Fine. Fine. It'd be nice to see a change in this place." The old guard shook his head in disbelief like he couldn't quite believe he was actually letting him in. "I'll hold you to that. If any one of those loonies get out. I'm coming after you." He said poking Bruce in the chest, surprised when the man didn't shift an inch under the pressure.

"Fair enough." Bruce stated holding out a hand towards the man. "I do need into Maximum Security. Please." The guard glared at him, ignoring that outstretched hand, he headed back into the box. The Detective watched him go, unsure of the man's intentions, the guard fumbled around in some drawers, before coming back down the steps, holding a card in his hand.

"Any of them." He warned holding the card just out of Bruce's reach. The playboy held out his hand again.

"Any of them," He agreed and the guard dropped the card into his outstretched palm, "and thank you." Bruce took a few steps away, then thought better of it, turning back to the man.

"What was your name by the way?" He asked and the old guy looked skeptical.

"Mike DuVall." He finally muttered his face sour at the revelation of that piece of information. Almost like he wanted to take it back.

"Well thank you, Mr. DuVall." Bruce insisted as he slipped towards the gate.

"You can thank me if you make it out sane." The guard called after him, and the playboy waved back at him with a small salute, the gate closing behind him.

Bruce made his way though the various security points, being let through every one of them the instant he flashed the card. Finally The Detective stood in front of the door leading to Maximum Security, the guards stationed there gave him confused looks.

"You want us to go in with you? You shouldn't be in there alone." One of them muttered to him as he opened the door with the card.

"I'll be fine. Thank you though." He said and the guard scoffed shuffling his feet.

"Your funeral." He muttered resuming his post.

Bruce walked into a metal hallway, he had made it several steps in before he realized that there were cells on either side of him. Metal doors blended seamlessly into the walls. Curious he tapped on a metal panel, barely sticking out from the rest of the metal, it popped open a scanner and keypad suddenly revealed. He closed it and looked at the supposed door to the cell some more. The only view into the rooms being a small sliding window, a little lower then eye view for him. Not wanting to check them all just yet, The Detective skipped those cells continuing his way through the hall, towards the open room ahead, he kept walking until he heard the sound he was looking for. That cackling laughter that was unique to the Joker alone, he had stepped out of the hallway into the larger room and was instantly met with the howling laughter. There was a choking sound and the giggles cut off into a groan of pain. In front of him was a strange electric looking device that took up the center of the room. A short railing wrapping around it to keep people away.

"Ah, that still hurts." A voice whined quietly and Bruce turned towards the sound, but not before noticing a half finished cell on his right, a metal high tech door across the room.

"Hey there Princess! Miss me? Oh I know you did. What am I saying?! You came to say hello! Maybe pick up on our little, play date? Oh the playing we would do." The Joker giggled sounding distant. The Clown was trapped behind a large glass window, keeping the crazy inside, but visible at all times. The only blind spot appeared to be the steel door leading into the cell, the same steel doors as the countless ones he passed in the hallway. Ignoring the madman, Bruce walked up to the glass, tapping it a few times. It made no sound, no echo, no vibration. He glanced up at the vent above the cell, the origin of the Joker's voice, the reason it sounded so distant, had a little echo. This was some heavy duty blast proof glass, he nodded his head in appreciation, at least they bought something right.

"Awwww come on Bru-Bru don't be like that. Say something."He whined tossing his green hair back, his head hitting the wall behind him in frustration.

"It was nothing personal I swear!" The Billionaire finally turned his attention to the Joker, who was sitting on a cot, the only furniture in the white room. The thick metal frame was welded into the floor. The mattress, basically plastic covered padding, had metal wires criss-crossing through it like a mesh. That seemed a little dangerous in Bruce's opinion, but the Joker was in a straitjacket, rocking back and forth on his bed. Unable to pick at them, for now. The Clown smirked, slipping lithely off the bed, he padded his way to the window, only flinching slightly as he straighted up. He set his forehead against the glass pressing as close to Bruce as possible, his eyes half lidded.

"Tell me your here to see me, little dove." The Clown asked his voice barely carrying through the vent, Bruce didn't answer. The Joker closed his eyes, banging his head against the glass once, licking his lips, when his visitor remained silent. Opening those vivid green eyes he leveled the playboy with an icy stare, his red lips parting. Bruce met those eyes taking in the intelligent insanity, that sober soul piercing gaze.

"I'm here to make sure you never escape again." Bruce stated after several seconds of unblinking contact, backing away from the glass a bit. The Joker tilted his head up, his nose pressed against the glass.

"Oh ho ho. Good luck with that dream-boat! The doctors here don't really favor my, presence, if you, uh, catch my drift." The Joker grinned with a dark chuckle, pulling his head away from the glass leaving an oily smear behind.

"Thats where I'll start then." The billionaire said defiantly, before remembering exactly why he was here, and what he was supposed to be doing. The Joker always made him forget who he was. The Clown tutted shaking his head at him.

"Oh, they wont like that. They wont like that at all." He pressed back against the glass. "I! Would suggest you didn't! I like you! I'd hate to see you go!" He pushed away from the glass with his head, moving to pace across his cell, feral, like a jaguar pacing in a cage, a smirk on his face, eye never leaving their prey. Bruce frowned and crossed his arms defiantly. Then second guessed himself. He needed to convince the Joker he wasn't a threat. Or interesting. He let his arms fall against his sides. God he really didn't know what he was doing here. He could play, womanizer, moron, tough guy, vigilante, but he didn't know how to play boring. The smirk dropped off the madman's face and he froze mid step, tilting his head, he slid back up to the window a scowl on his face.

"Don't!" He slammed his head against the window. Bruce winced for him, that had to hurt. The only sound being the slapping of flesh through the vent. "Do that." He hissed through gritted teeth fixing the playboy with an angry glare. Bruce frowned in confusion, not even sure what the Clown was talking about anymore.

"I have the money. I can easily buy out this entire place. Make sure you never get out." Bruce guessed, the madman growled twisting his forehead on the glass.

"They will, kill you," He sung giving Bruce a once over, he suddenly slammed his body against the glass. "And stop with the fidgeting! Just act natural, twinkle toes." The Joker insisted letting his head slam against the glass again, he slid his forehead down the window a little, the screeching friction of damp flesh against the smooth plain creeping out of the vent.

"Just be, your defiant gallant, little self." He insisted meeting Bruce's guarded blue eyes, his head nodding enthusiastically. "Ah!" He shouted jumping away from the window with his sudden epiphany. "Thank you! By the way, for saving little ol' me. Wish I could have been awake for the fun parts. I have to admit, I've died one too many times, don't you think?" He added with a giggle, snuggling up to the glass again. The billionaire gritted his teeth.

"It wasn't my intention." Bruce stated blandly with tight lips.

"Sure it wasn't. I read the papers handsome, I know what you said, what they, think." The Joker leaned away from the glass with a knowing smirk.

"You get papers in here?" Bruce asked in actual curiosity. Wouldn't even that be dangerous in some way? The madman's grin slipped from his face as he sized the playboy up, his deranged green eyes sharpening, as he calculated his response, no, the playboys deserved answer. An amused smile broke across those scarred lips after a few moments. The Joker cocked his head to the side stepping away from the window.

"For a price." The Joker admitted, lucid eyes trained on the playboy as he stalked down his cell, following Bruce as the man walked down a little ways, trying to see just how much of a blind spot that door was, if it was something he should be worried about. Annoyed that he had lost the man's attention Joker spoke again.

"Why are you here, Billion-boy?" The Clown asked sensually pressing himself back against the glass near The Detective.

"I told you. I'm here to make sure – ." There was a sliding of gates, grinding of metal and the door across the room started sliding open.

"That'll be our resident doctor! I'd suggest, you make yourself scarce beautiful. She's not he nicest Doc around." He warned with a wink. Bruce looked around at the empty hall behind him, the empty room around him. The only place he could even attempt to hid would be behind the strange electric conductor stationed in the middle of the room, it would be a tight space though, his shoulders too broad, and he could hear multiple voices coming through the now open door. He'd be able to hide from one person's sight with the device, not multiple. Quickly narrowing down his options he dashed forward, clicking the metal plate open, sliding the key card across The Joker's door. The Clown squealed with delight.

"Two six nine, eight four six, three seven five, nine one four two." The Joker recited quickly, and Bruce punched the numbers in, not even stopping to wonder how the madman knew them, slipping inside just before the group caught sight of him. The Joker visibly shivered with pleasure, holding back the laughter as, what Bruce assumed to be, the doctor and some guards entered his view. The billionaire pressed himself against the door hoping that small blind spot would be enough for him. The Joker kept his attention locked on someone outside the cell, doing nothing to betray Bruce's presence. The room smelled like sweat, blood and burnt metal. He could hear the slight hitch in the Joker's breathing from his injury now that he was in the room, the small stitch in his breaths.

"Hello doctor, how are you this, fine, evening?" The Joker asked pressing himself against the glass again, but not quite as close as before.

"Joker. I'm surprised to see you conscious." An older woman said and the Joker snickered.

"I am too! To be, completely, honest. Love, love, love! This new cage you've put me in. It seems my style. Rather, Wicked!" He grinned at her his eyes wide, psychotic, his grin over bearing, tight.

"I thought you'd like it." The woman stated venomously.

"Well yes, but Dr. Hannibal, you should know!" He stage whispered as if letting her in on a great secret, looking around dramatically. "You can only cure crazy this way!" He stated as if it she were batty for the idea.

"Which you are." She replied dryly completely unamused with him.

"That's a point of perspective don't you think? I mean, to me. Your all mad as the Hatter. I mean look at you. Full of greed and personal gain! Let it go pumpkin, it makes life easier." He finished shrilly as if they had spoken of this before and the doctor just wasn't quite getting it.

"Greed." The doctor stated as though muling over the title. "Maybe." She laughed a little.

"Tell me, you've always seemed pretty obsessed with that sin, why is that? What is it about greed that makes you so... Mad?" She emphasized the last word, showing she meant both meanings of the word. The Joker shook his head leaning a little away from the window with a dramatic sigh. A dark amused chuckle left his lips. He fixed the doctor with an soul shattering stare, his eyes holding an eerie completely sane intelligence. He leaned forward biting his lip, letting his head gently rest against the glass.

"Tell me, doctor." He said his voice deepening, dropping all of the vibrant crazy. "What is, Insanity?" The Joker asked emphasizing the word with a crinkle of his nose. The woman scoffed, annoyed.

"It's a disease, that festers in the soul, rotting the body from the inside out." She answered as if this was a mantra she spoke daily, taught people like it was a religion. Like it was a fact, that everyone should know, live by. The Joker's chuckle was deep, slowly and steadily getting louder, but remaining just as dark. He inhaled suddenly through his teeth. Letting out one last snicker. He tilted his head to the side, a winning smirk sliding across his face.

"And that! My dear doctor. Is your answer." He whispered darkly, knowingly, his chuckle picking back up until it was almost his usual cackle, almost.

"Because your insane?"

"Because greed is, by your definition, insanity." The Clown countered and the woman fell silent.

"You have a lovely evening, doctor." The Joker called out to her when she had no reply, enunciating the last word with amusement he backed away from the window. There was a very long pause on either side. The Joker never blinking as he watched his audience, a smug look on his face. Finally someone took a deep breath outside the cell.

"You seem rather talkative today. Is there a reason why?" The woman stated, obviously changing the subject.

"Did you hear your little Bruce came to visit? Its a shame he didn't come to see you." The doctor taunted.

"Like he would. Your the craziest one in here, and the ugliest." The Joker made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat.

"Again, I, think that's debatable. I mane have you looked at his mug, its a show stopper." The Joker replied his eyes deadly as he stared the doctor down.

"Good thing mad men's opinions aren't counted. Lets go boys. We have other things to do then talk with the scenery." High heels clicked through the room, three pairs of boots matching her stride.

"Yet Einstein is so revered." The Joker tacked on with a haughty grin.

"I think he actually got you there doc." A man whispered jokingly, barely audible though the vent. The clicking of heels stopped, a tense silence conquered the room. A zapping noise, one Bruce knew was from a taser echoed through the vent. A body hit the floor painfully, spasming a few times.

"Take him to Croc. I don't need men like him around, and we're running low on supplies." The woman muttered darkly, accompanied by shuffling of boots.

"Right away." A voice answered, the Joker broke out in a cackle for a few seconds, coughing and curling into himself as his lungs constricted him once more. The woman outside the cell laughed bitterly.

"Don't strain yourself kid." The woman sneered, "On better thought do. Like I said, we're running low on supplies."

"Oh you know I wont be around long enough for that. I have someone waiting for me! Oh and he is anxious to see me. It's been so loooong!" The Joker whined tossing his head back dramatically.

"Thank god at that, you and your caped rodent can do whatever you like, just stay out of here. You brink too much heat to Arkham."

"Watch it sister, only I get to insult my... other half" Joker stated with a glare, gritting his teeth, and the woman laughed.

"Enjoy your stay kid. Glad you like the new cell." She called to him, her high heels clicking away and Bruce let out a strained sigh of relief. The Joker hadn't been lying, about any of it, he needed to save that man. He mentally shook himself, would he make it in time? No. He'd get caught and be in the same boat, okay it would be a ship, he is Batman, but still. It was better to get out of here and start tearing the foundation apart, starting with that doctor. Suddenly Bruce was painfully aware of his surroundings, it was just him and the Joker, in a locked room together. The madman had fixed him with a fascinated, wide eyed stare, a small smirk tugging at his lips. He bounced back onto his cot giddily, cocking his head to the side with a small chuckle.

"Oh! If only she knew! You were right here! In my cell! She'd be so jealous!" He tittered bouncing in his seat, squirming around in his jacket.

"Like the place? I'd decorate it! Buuuut, my options are pretty limited. Though to be honest, I think the – ." The Joker broke off with a feral growl then a small irritated laugh.

"He would approve. Definitely, its a pretty high tech cage." He finished nodding his head, giving the playboy a strained smile.

"He? He who? Batman?" Bruce guessed and wished he hadn't. Pain shot through his legs and up his body, frying his insides. Seizing he collapsed against the wall, gripping his abdomen he slid to the ground, disoriented. The Joker's shriek turned into laughter, cutting through his stinging pain.

"Do, do, do not! Say that!" The Clown giggled as if they had just got off a ride he had suggested they didn't take. "Or! K. I. Double L, Oh, oh, Redrum backwards! Definately! Not, that one." He tried to laugh again but just ended up coughing weakly.

"What the hell was that?" Bruce asked gruffly, letting out a few coughs of his own, his insides feeling sluggish.

"The floor, is on an electric circuit. It has, uh, trigger words." The Joker said excitedly. "Think of it as negative reinforcement for the criminally insane!"

"Thats inhuman." Bruce exhaled placing his hand against the wall, he took a deep breath, before he attempted to push himself up, groaning in pain.

"Ever the hero." The Joker whispered darkly, watching the playboys every move. Bruce pushed away from the floor a little, his muscles protesting loudly. There was a creak and suddenly the Joker was on him, one pale hand jamming purposefully into his injured thigh. The Detective cried out in pain, his leg spasming, his back slamming against the wall again. Falling back to the ground, he slammed his fist into that pale scarred face, sending the lithe man flying across the cell away from him.

"What the fuck?!" Bruce yelled gripping his injured leg. Blood seeped through his pant leg. The Joker started with a low laugh, breaking out into maniacal laugher, before having to cut it short again, with pained gasps. The green haired monster was on his hands and knees now, lifting his head up he leveled Bruce with a feral grin, blood trailing down his chin. Realizing he just socked the madman in the face Bruce tried to play it off dramatically shaking his hand in pain, adding a little hiss for effect. The Joker swiped one straitjacket covered hand across his mouth wiping the blood away. He sat back on his haunches, cocking his head predatorily at the playbo,y a small knowing look marring his pale features, his lips thin as he took in the man in front of him.

"Tell me, Bruce, why does a billionaire, playboy, philanthropist need to hide his injury from the world at large?" The Joker emphasized the last word licking his lips hungrily. The secret vigilante held the panic at bay sorting through how to handle this situation. God what if he already knew? The Clown took a deep breath.

"Riddle, me this," The Joker exhaled, his eyes wide, never blinking, watching Bruce's face closely for any sign of recognition to the saying. Bruce kept his face a blank confused, irritated, he wasn't really sure anymore, but he didn't take the bait, didn't show the recognition.

"How does a ditsy, self absorbed, womanizer get caught cheating on woman once every three to four months and yet!" The Clown exclaimed lifting his index fingers up as he paused for dramatic effect, shimmying the sleeves down his arms, which took a second, until his hands were visible. "Can easily," His fingers dropped, "hide a shot wound from the media?" Bruce laughed bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief.

"The last thing I needed was to be placed in some romantic story with you. I could gag at the head lines. Bruce and Clown lover – ."

"Joker and playboy lover." Joker corrected.

"Shot tragically by the same bullet." Said playboy finished with a sneer, The Joker pursed his lips at his words.

"And I only get, caught, every once in awhile, instead of every time." Bruce continued emphasizing the word caught. The Clown pouted in disappointment an irritated glare leveled on the billionaire.

"I've been at this long enough to know how to hide my problems." He finished as if it were obvious, but The Joker didn't look quite convinced. The madman took in a deep breath, then stopped, letting the breath out in an irritated huff, he squinted his eyes at the billionaire, tilting his head another direction he opened his mouth, then snapped it close. He huffed again.

"You know..." The Clown trailed off, depressed, his shoulder slumped. His eyes lingered on the ground for a few seconds, pouting, then a feral grin ate its way across his face. He jumped up suddenly, before The Detective could take the time to stand up, stalking towards Bruce briskly, his eyes trailing from the man's boots up his body. The playboy tensed unable to move much, his muscles still processing the earlier shock.

"Why," he walked closer, "Is it," he kept his eyes from meeting Bruce's as the billionaire put his hand back onto the wall unsure of how steady his legs would be if he tried to stand up. He could take the Joker, but he didn't want to. That would just cement any idea the madman had of his identity. He should make a break for it, get out of the cell, but the Joker would be on him in seconds, and he wasn't willing to turn his back on the madman to attempt it. Then the Clown was too close to try.

"That your. Not." The Joker whispered, placing both of his hands on the wall above Bruce's head, his feet on either side of the man's outstretched injured one. Bruce looked up at the Clown, his green eyes hidden by a halo of faded green hair, his lips parted, revealing yellowing teeth, instead of his usual bleached ones.

"Scared," The Joker whispered, tilting his head up, finally meeting his eye. "Of me." The madman finished with a sensual smirk, slipping down the wall and into Bruce's lap, his hands trailing lovingly down the wall. Bruce tensed, pale hands framed his head, his dark hair contrasting violently with the white wrists. The Joker didn't place his weight on him, refusing to lose his advantage over the male. One of Bruce's arms was against the wall, ready to push himself up at any moment, the other held his injured leg, hoping the Joker wouldn't go for it. The secret vigilante wanted nothing more then to smash that scared face in with his forehead, instead he settled for giving the Joker what he wanted. That was it wasn't it? The Joker loved when people feared him, loved to look down on them. See them as lesser beings. It was difficult and, probably, not entirely convincing, Bruce had spent years perfecting his fear of nothing. He let his eyes widden and his breath quicken. Let his hand slip panicked against the wall as he stared up into those gleeful green eyes.

"Ah." Joker exhaled, closing his eyes with a little nod, one palm leaving the wall to twirl between dark strands.

"There it is." The eyes opened, fingers traced playfully around the shell of his ear, "The fear," he spoke the word like it was a lover, his fingers left to trail down Bruce's masculine jawline, the madman leaned in closer. His breath ghosting across the playboy's lips, reeking of days without care, the Detective could smell the stomach acid eating away at The Joker's insides. Bruce stared into those vivid green eyes, hoping to god he wouldn't have to beat the shit out of the Clown to get out of this alive. Ruby lips, even without the paint, parted and their breaths mingled for a second, the Clown's eyes half lidded. Suddenly the Joker scowled, his scars twisting, his hands shot down, gripping Bruce's throat, squeezing tightly. The Detective startled back, his head slamming against the wall, coughing, his hands clawing at the Joker's grip. They toppled sideways as he wrenched at those hands, attempting to get free, gasping for air. The Joker sneered down at him, his hands tightening, finally letting his full weight lay upon the playboys abdomen as he pressed down harder. Bruce scowled back, his own fingers digging at the Joker's, he shifted his feet underneath him, getting ready to throw the madman off , when the door behind him opened suddenly.

"Back it up freak." A gruff voice said, and the Joker released his hold reluctantly, sliding away from Bruce, letting his hands trail down the man's shirt, over his hidden muscles. The playboy gasped for air one hand gently cradling his neck, the other slapped against the ground helping him move.

"You have some death wish rich boy." Still coughing Bruce turned over onto his stomach, pushing to his hands and knees. Looking up he found Miles Duvall aiming a gun steadily at the Joker. Painfully the billionaire slowly got to his feet playing up how injured he was, well how much it effected him anyway. He leaned against the wall for support, sending the man a pitiful, yet thankful, look.

"Thanks." Bruce ground out painfully, making sure to keep his voice from dropping low, deep, guttural like the Bats.

"Yeah just get out. Why I ever thought you would be useful is beyond me. Your just some dumbass pretty boy who thinks he can buy the world. Just give me the damn card and get out." Bruce nodded his head vaguely patting his jacket down. He didn't have the key, of course he didn't have the key. He turned slowly to level the Joker with a blank stare. The guard followed his gaze, his hand tightening on the gun.

"Hand it over, unlike this guy I don't have a problem with dropping you dead, and making sure you stay that way." He grunted tightening his finger on the trigger. The Joker huffed in irritation, holding out the card.

"You ruin all the fun Griffins. One of these times, I will, actually, kill you when I get out. Wouldn't that be fun? I think we should make a date of it!" The madman hissed, leveling the guard with a sneer.

"Yeah keep trying." Duvall sneered back pocketing the key card, his gun never leaving The Joker.

"Will do Gandalf." The Joker winked half heartedly, slumping back onto his bed, his breathing labored. Bruce slipped out of the cell and the man shut the door behind them. The guard made his way towards the exit, muttering about changing the code. Bruce followed sending one last look back, only to find the Joker pressed against the glass again, a calculating look in his eye. Realizing the attention, the madman kissed the glass sweetly, leaving a smear of blood and spit behind. Reaching a finger up he drew it into a rickety smiley face, his own grin coming out to match it as he enthusiastically waved goodbye to the pair.

"He needs to be re-strapped." Bruce grunted in annoyance at The Joker's boundless energy.

"It's pointless. He only leaves himself in that straitjacket for fun." Duvall muttered opening the doors out of the building, he escorted Bruce in silence to the front gates, not letting the man start a defend his actions. He made sure the playboy drove off before he returned to his duties. The last thing he needed was for Dr. Mengele to find the kid.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Once Bruce got to his car he immediately called Barbra, pulling out of the Asylum's parking lot, watching the old guard make his way back into the establishment.

"Ummm isn't it a little early?" Barbra wondered, answering on the third ring.

"No." Bruce stated darkly. "I need your help."

"Yeah." She said as if that were obvious. There was a pause.

"Bruce are you okay." There was another bout of silence.

"I think he knows." The Detective finally admitted, another pause.

"You didn't actually go to the Asylum did you?" Oracle groaned his disbelief easily audible through the phone.

"Bruce?" She tried again, then sighed.

"You did. Didn't you? What happened?" Bruce took a deep breath.

"It doesn't matter. I need you to uncover their finances. I want to know where every penny of their donations have gone, I want background checks on all of the staff. Every one of them. Family history, high school records, warnings, strange vacations, anything out of the ordinary I want to know about it."

"Okay, Bruce. What happened?" She asked worried.

"Somethings wrong with that place Barbra. Theres a reason criminals keep escaping. I practically just bought my way into Maximum Security. Hell the doctor admitted she wanted The Joker out of there, said he brought the place too much heat." He scoffed his grip tightening on the steering wheel.

"Bruce, we've been over this, that isn't something you can fund."

"No. I couldn't fund." He corrected her. "I can now. Bruce Wayne has a personal reason to get invested. I can do this."

"Personally? Bruce. You don't do anything personal. You hire people to do it for you." Barbra insisted, her heart clenching at the hope in Bruce's tone.

"Well maybe that should change. Just this once." Barbra sighed again, knowing that Bruce's stubbornness would win out in the end. There was nothing she could say that would stop him.

"The media will have a field day." There was a long pause.

"Let them." He muttered darkly turning his car towards the courthouse.

By day break the next morning Bruce Wayne was the proud new owner of Arkham Asylum and damn did it feel good. He could finally control where his enemies went, and when they got out.

Yet a small part of him, one deep inside wasn't too sure about this plan, or the out come.

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

Duh duh duh! Where ever shall I go with this. Bahahaha. The next chapter will probably be pretty long too. I got a portion of it done while writing this one and I was like jesus... this is long. I should make the next chapter this stuff.

ANYWHO! Kudos, Reviews, blah blah blah comments. Love. Give me love! Feed the monster.


	4. Chapter 4 - Bats, Cats, and Coo Coo Toys

Sup. Stuff. Notes. Robins in this one again. I'm almost 100% certain he's OOC but idk how they act so eh. Let me know if it bugs you.

Shattered Identities

Chapter 4

Bats, Cats, and Coo Coo Toys

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The Asylum hadn't changed much in a day, still run down, decrepit and full of corruption. Bruce had let them give him the run around for the last three hours, it wasn't a big deal. Barbra was already hacking into all of their systems and surveillances. Without the Joker to cut them off, it was almost a walk in the park for her. So he let the new warden, top doctor, Dr. Mengele lead him in circles, he couldn't quite figure out what her angle was. Why was she doing this? What was she even doing?

"Bruce." Oracle spoke into his ear piece and he smiled at the Warden acting like he was listening to whatever bullshit she was rambling off at the moment. She was sucking up to him, but he could see how livid she was underneath. How inconvenient his presence was to her. She turned out to be an older woman, mid forties, her hair was short dirty blonde. The kind you see on soccer moms who just didn't have time anymore. Her brow creased with worry lines, her cheeks deep from frowns. She had thin tight, pale lips and glassy eyes. Her smile never met those eyes, that held more intelligence in them when she thought Bruce wasn't watching.

"Some men went into the labs of the Intensive Care Facility. I don't have camera's in there. It seems they were removed. They're not even connected to the system anymore. Speaking of the system, it had a virus in it for anyone who came looking, I'm still dismantling it. Whatever they have down there, or in the labs past Maximum Security, if there are labs, they don't want us to see." She explained with a hint of frustration. Bruce supposed that was his queue to get something done. Falling into step with the woman instead of lagging behind her, he took control of the situation.

"The Intensive Care. I hear that's an exciting build. Can we visit there next?" Bruce spoke up leveling his gaze on the petite woman leading him around, the same doctor who had that man thrown to Croc not even yesterday, the woman he was going to tear down and make sure she never had a career in medicine again.

"I think that will be our last stop. How about we go to the medical facility next?" The woman replied cheerfully leveling him with a fake smile.

"How about, you stop leading me in circles, and just show me what your hiding?" Bruce leveled her with a steady gaze, this would be so much easier as Batman. He could tie her up and tear this place apart physically, while his teammate tore it apart cyberly.

"Bruce." Barbra spoke up a disgruntled shock to her voice. "The inmate's they're moving in max security right now, they don't exist in the database. Bruce. Half these people shouldn't even be here." The Detective's gaze turned dark. This little game was over.

"Lock it down. Everything." He hissed, angrily ripping the key card out of the Warden's grasp. Sliding of metal and clanking of locks echoed around them as Barbra over road the system. The doctor gasped in surprise, spinning in circles as all of the door locks clicked into place. She leveled him with the most honest look she had given him all day, loathing.

"What did you do?" Mengele snarled at him and he took a step away from her, slipping the now useless card into his jacket pocket. Just for effect.

"I think its my turn to do the leading. You can come or stay, either way your stuck in the Asylum until I decide otherwise." Bruce informed her, a small smirk at her displeasure gracing his masculine features.

"How are you doing this?" She asked him with a scowl that twisted her face, making her look older then she was. Bruce chuckled turning away from her, he started towards the exit of the gardens, which they had spent the last hour "admiring." 

"I've hired some friends." He muttered the doors opening for him as he met them, no key card needed.

"Lets take a little stroll." Bruce smirked, he made his way to the Intensive Care Facility with the good doctor trailing behind him, completely livid. Bruce dreaded walking through the Joker's containment room, but they had no choice. He could feel Mengele's heated glare on the back of his head as he made his way silently though the facility. The billionaire ignored the questions that were asked of them as they passed. It was obvious to everyone they where the only ones who could go anywhere. Bruce simply stated that they were on lock down, the doctor giving him a sour look. Many guards and workers they passed looked scared, while others looked satisfied at the situation, and the Detective made a note of them. They were coming up on the Joker's cell, the clicking of the doctors heels echoing through the hall as they neared.

"Hey! Whats going on Einstein? Your cramping my style right now? How am I supposed to get out if even you can't leave?!" The Joker's voice called from down the hall, accompanied by a short cackling laugh. The Clown was still chuckling when they passed into the threshold. A great inhale was heard, and the Joker jumped from his spot on the bed, rushing to the window, his skin pressing against the glass. The window still had the morbid smile dried onto it, oil smears littering the clear surface.

"Oh!" He squealed, "I knew you'd come back! Bruce babe! I missed you." The Joker whined grinning darkly from his cell. Pressing himself against the glass, he kissed the window drawing a smile despite the lack of blood this time. Bruce ignored him walking farther through the room, up to the door he presumed was for the new labs. Whatever was behind this door he would figure it out. Stop it, fix it, the Joker growled in the background not appreciating being ignored by the well dressed playboy.

"That's where the camera's stop Bruce. I can't help you anymore. I, really don't think you should do this." Barbra pressed the worry evident in her voice.

"I do feel a little under dressed." Bruce whispered with dry humor and she gave an equally dry laugh.

"You wanted to be Bruce Wayne." Yeah he did, because he could.

"Come on precious! Whats a little asphyxiation kink between friends, huh?" There was a short pause, and a growl of irritation when the playboy didn't pay attention to him. Flesh slammed against the glass in frustration.

"I wouldn't go down there if I were you Brucy-Bru." Bruce turned towards the madman, taking in his sardonic smile, unbuckled straitjacket and frizzy hair.

"You never know what the wicked doctor has cooked up for you in her, uh, cesspool of a lab." The Joker growled out, Bruce could tell Dr. Mengele attempted not to freeze up at his words. The Detective met the madman's eyes, full of that crazed intelligence, and Bruce wondered if maybe this wasn't such a good idea. He wanted it done, he wanted to do it himself, but he wasn't Batman, no matter how much he felt inside, Batman was a suit, Bruce was flesh and blood.

"Insane until the last." The doctor laughed, brushing off the Clown's words. Bruce leveled her with a disgusted stare, scoffing.

"Then it's sad I believe him more then you." He whispered turning away from her, his attention back on the door.

"Maybe you belong in here then." She hissed at him and he smirked at her.

"Well, I do own the place. Maybe I should make Arkham manor a past time retreat. Oh but, your living there right now aren't you?" Bruce taunted tilting his head towards her to take in the woman's livid expression, this door was taking Barbra longer then the others. Eventually the door ground open, and the doctor couldn't keep the shock and fear off her face. Bruce frowned, turning fully towards the woman, it felt good to do something right, and maybe he was getting carried away, but he couldn't help it.

"You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Let's start over, I'm Bruce Wayne." The playboy smiled sweetly, holding out a hand for the angry woman to shake. She stared at it for a second sizing him up, her lips a thin line of distaste. The Clown slammed a hand against the glass, starting up a steady bang with his forehead, when he didn't get the attention he needed.

"Elena Mengele." She finally stated taking his hand roughly in her own. Bruce's gave her his most dashing smile and the Joker growled in the background, muttering to himself. 

"Its nice to meet you Elena." There was a small pause between them. He stared into her dead eyes, she stared back determinedly. When he just sat there looking sweet she finally started to reply.

"You as w – ." Bruce cut her off with a smirk, raising a finger into her face.

"Oh, your fired and your doctorate is up for evaluation." The Joker cackled in the background as the Philanthropist turned to make his way down the new hall leaving the woman dumbfounded behind him. He smiled to himself as he strode down the small hallway towards the next door, where the hall took a turn, thinking that maybe cracking some jokes infront of the Joker wasn't a great idea. The Clown's laughter broke off abruptly, eerie silence reigning through the room. Where was her heels?

"Bruce!" The Joker shouted after him, just in time for him to turn around, the door clanked and he took a step back. It slowly slid shut behind him before he could move, a smirk on the woman's face as she type into her cellphone. The door closed with finality and the billionaire's stomach sank.

"Barbra cut all cellphone transmissions." Bruce tried quickly dashing down the hall, he turned the corner, he needed to find somewhere to hide. Something to hold. He should have shut down the weapon check when he showed up. Slipped something in.

"Oracle?" He called loudly coming to a metal door, it was locked of course, and suddenly the world tilted. The ground shaking violently, he fell side ways into the door, his ears ringing. Somewhere on the island something had exploded rocking the foundation.

"Oracle?" He tried again, moving farther down the steel hall afraid another explosion would hit closer to home. Finding nothing but locked doors as he went.

"Bru – Bruce?" Barbra's voice cut through, static attacking her transmission. He was getting tired of closed doors.

"Barbra!" The billionaire answered trying more doors lining the halls. He stopped briefly taking in the blood and gore through a windowed door, it looked almost like a surgical room, he couldn't see enough of it to tell.

"Bruce! The – static – facility – every where not – tentry – Bruce did you – static – hear me? Bruce?"

"Your cutting out." Bruce stated making his way past the closed doors, trying to find one that wasn't locked, he could hear shouts coming from farther down the hall. He didn't have much time. A sudden crackle echoed through the hall as speakers turned on, Dr. Mengele's voice echoing through the building.

"Hello Arkham staff and inmates, I've given you all free reign. While your running around wreaking havoc, keep in mind that the person who kills Bruce Wayne or the Joker will be rewarded, promotion or freedom, depending on your position. Good hunting." Her voice cut off and Bruce realized that this situation just got ten times harder.

"Bruce? I boosted the signal. Can you hear me?" Barbra tried again, her voice clearer but still a little fuzzy in spots.

"Yeah I can." He replied shoving his body against another door, the voices growing closer, the metal wouldn't budge, there was no where he could jump to, no vents over head. This wasn't going his way.

"Where are you?" Barbra asked her voice full of worry.

"In a hallway. Just past the door. What was that explosion? Whats happening?"

"Bruce you need to get out of there. Don't worry about anything else, alright? You can come back geared up, but don't stop until then." Bruce let out an irritated growl, he needed to know. Finally he found a utility closet that wasn't locked, slipping inside he shut the door, a man's screams pierced the hallway mere seconds later. Letting his eyes adjust he noticed a ventilation shaft big enough for him near the ceiling, the room was small, cluttered by decaying cleaning supplies, broken brooms and rusting containers. The screams grew in number, gun shots echoed into the room through the closed door.

"Barbra, I need to know what happened." He insisted snatching up a bucket he arranged it beneath the grate, wiping gunk off his hands onto his expensive pants.

"My lock down was cut off. The entire Intensive Care Facility is unlocked, everything Bruce. The cells, the gates, its a mad house in there. So is the rest of the asylum, I'd give you good news but there really isn't any. I'm calling police back up right now, but they wont be there for several minutes, if at that. Bruce you need to get out."

"I got it." Bruce said irritated, trying to pull the screws out of the grate when ripping it from the sockets only served to cut up his hands. The batman suit really was useful. Taking a quick glance around the room he found an object that fit into the sockets. It was still slow work. Screams echoed down the hallway.

"Bruce?" Barbra spoke up as the screams died down again. 

"What?"

"Don't be a hero. Let Batman do that work."

"I'll get out Barbra." Bruce stated flatly, he got the picture already.

"Good, because the Joker's trying to follow you. Lucky, or, unluckily, the door doesn't seem to be opening, I think your section is still locked down." Bruce opened his mouth to comment when down the hall wretched screams and more gunshots sounded.

"Bruce don't." Oracle insisted, the pain at the chance of losing the Detective audible in her voice.

"I wasn't going to." Bruce reassured her, she was right, the fact that he couldn't get this stupid grate off was just proof that despite how he felt, Bruce Wayne wasn't Batman.

"Whatever she has down there, she locked you in for a reason." She added, the screams sounded louder this time, closer, inhuman almost. He was twisting the last screw off when a screech came from just outside the door. He clicked Barbra off, refusing to listen to her mothering while stuffed in a vent. He quietly removed the grate from its rusted position. The sounds in the hall went silent, shuffling could be heard, and something pressed against the door, jarring it, blocking out the light streaming beneath. Bruce hauled himself up into the dirty shaft keeping one hand on the grate, ignoring the feel of spiderwebs across his skin. Whatever was in the hall took long labored sniffs at the door, shifting his position he accidentally scraped his arm against the rusted side, drawing blood. A feral growl emanated from outside the room. The billionaire juggled the grate back into place just as the door knob turned.

In walked a definite crazy, but not one he had ever seen before. It's eyes were wide, animalistic, it's face and body covered in blood. It, he, was short and skeletal, his ragged shirt hung off a thin body. Bruce stared in horror at the man, staying as still as possible behind the vent as it sniffed around. Blood streamed down its face, drenching the little clothes he had on. The billionaire held his breath, hoping beyond hope, that the thing pawing around at the utilities and cleaning supplies wasn't a zombie, the last thing he wanted to deal with was zombies. He couldn't knock them out, was it considered murder if he killed one? He really wasn't sure and didn't want to find out.

"Nick!" A deep voice called from somewhere down the hall and the creature startled, sending an annoyed look towards the voice.

"Seriously, Nick if I have to come over there, I'ma beat your ass." There was a clicking of a gun.

"Here! Someone!" The man below him called out his voice scratchy and horse.

"What was that? Nick. Swear to god." The voice grumbled. "We need to get out of here. There are some crazies down here man and I mean fucking crazies." Boots sounded down the hallway and Bruce rearranged his grip on the grate, making his hold as invisible as possible. A taller man wielding a guards gun, but not the uniform, came into the room. His hair disheveled, bits and pieces shaved off, his face pale, fresh thin scars littered his face, just like the skinnier man prowling the room like a dog. He wore an inmates uniform, stained with old blood.

"Nick? Jesus. Nick. You," The man paused in horror taking in his blood covered companion, shock in his eyes.

"That was you? What the fuck man?" The taller male ran a hand through his choppy hair staring at the other in fearful despair, as if he didn't quite know what to do with this situation. The man closed his eyes pointing back down the hallway his mouth having difficulty forming words.

"You. Did that? God what. What did they do to you?" The man named Nick had the decency to look abashed, slumping his blood covered shoulders, he pouted a little. The older man sadly took a step forward placing a hand on the other's head, ruffling choppy hair. The shorter male brightened at the touch grinning up at the other.

"Jared, she said to find him." Nick stated sniffing around the room again, the taller male's brows creased farther at his words.

"Who?"

"The man. He smells good. Like you except, clean." The elder male glared at him.

"Yeah well sue me. Lets go."

"But the lady." The smaller one whined glancing around the room again.

"Fuck her, if I ever see her again I'm putting fifty rounds through her skank ass body. Lets move." Jared turned around, his grip white on the gun he held. Reluctantly Nick followed, giving the room one last look. Bruce let out a small breath of relief before another screech made its way down the hall, his muscles instantly tensing again.

"God damn it! Nick! Fucking do that again and I'm going to punch you in the face." There was a small pause, then another screech sounded almost like the feral teen was baiting Jared. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the hall, and the scram was cut off with a strangled noise. Obviously the man kept his promise.

"We good?" The taller male asked his voice sounding gruff. A small whimper answered and the footfalls moved away. Bruce reached a hand up and turned Barbra back on, keeping his hold on the grate in the mean time.

"Barbra?"

"Oh god, Bruce. I was so worried, those screams were... What happened?"

"I don't know but I plan to find out."

"Vague."

"Whats going on up top?"

"Nothing really, most of the Max Security psychos are roaming the grounds... Some of the guards are dead." She added reluctantly and a little quietly. So more then some of the guards were dead.

"And some of the inmates." She tacked on quietly. So a lot of the inmates.

"Duvall?" Bruce inquired, waiting for any other sound to come down that hallway.

"Holed up in his bullet proof box."

"Good. You have a schematic for down here?"

"No. I guess we know where all that money went. According to the old building layout that place was just a single hallway, used for mostly storage."

"Its definitely not just a hallway anymore."

"Figured. Good news the cops are almost there. The bad news. The door down the hall is open now, meaning anything can get in, but in turn you can get out. Most of the inmates are outside by now or still rocking in their cells. The cameras are still working as well. I can help you escape if you want or you can wait for the cops. I'd prefer you waited for the cops."

"I'll take my chances." The Detective muttered his muscles getting tired from holding the grate in place. Barbra let out a frustrated sound.

"Remember Bruce, your not Batman right now." She huffed an edge of anger to her tone. Bruce took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"I know." He gritted out, yes he didn't have the suit but he still could do things as Bruce Wayne. He wasn't helpless.

"I don't know about your hall, but the last people I saw leave was some guy and something covered in a lot of blood."

"I saw them too. Let me see if the coast is clear and I'll get back to you." Bruce let the grate slide quietly to the ground. Maneuvering his way out of the vent, careful not to cut himself again, thank god he was up to date on his shots, he dropped to the floor just as silently as he had gotten in. Bloody foot prints now covered the ground, the appliances and cleaning supplies dotted with smudges of blood. Creeping to the door he peered around the edge. A small group of men littered the hallway several doors down. Two had their throats ripped open, while the other three had bullet wounds littering their body that looked like friendly fire. Blood pooled across the floor, slowly creeping its way towards the billionaire. Bruce tore his eyes away from the scene, silently making his way down the hallway, keeping his back to the wall just in case.

"I see you coming up. There shouldn't be anyone in the Joker's room. There are two inmates still in their cells, but they don't seem to be aware of their surroundings. As long as you don't spook them you should be f – Bruce behind you!" Barbra cried out and Bruce twisted around just barely catching the flailing body that launched towards him. He flipped them over onto the floor sparing no time in slamming their head into the cement. Effectively knocking them unconscious. He took a second after to stare down at the mutilated face of a human, its features warped and twisted with scars, sections missing, exposing drying muscles.

"What are they?" Oracle asked quietly over the headset, and Bruce wondered if he would be better off just shutting her off. He should have heard them coming.

"They're people." He stated turning away from the body, making his way through the rest of the hall.

"What happened to them?"

"I don't know, but we'll find out. Where's the Joker?" Bruce asked moving into the Clown's cell room, the cell empty, the sliding metal door stuck open, looking down the hall he saw all of the cells were the same. There were two guards sprawled out on the floor near him, one's neck was twisted at an odd angel, while the other had bullet wounds, blood splattered the Joker's window.

"He left a few minutes ago, before those two came out. He looked mad."

"Did he now?" The Detective asked amused, "Did he do this?" He added as an after thought.

"What do you think? And not that mad, well he always looks 'mad'. Never mind. Just make sure you stay out of his way. I don't care how much it seems he likes you." Bruce chuckled quietly creeping past the Joker's empty cage.

"He tried to kill me yesterday, I don't think you have to worry about any disillusions on my part." Bruce informed her, he made his way to the hall lined with open cells, pressing himself against a wall he checked the first cell, the smell was atrocious, piss and body oder easily over powering his senses.

"I'm not surprised, are you surprised?" The hall beyond didn't have any dead bodies, thankfully. Apparently none of the inmates wanted kill each other in here. It was a pretty long hall though, it was surprising only two inmates remained.

"Not in the slightest." Bruce replied moving past that cell to the next.

"Good. Now be quiet, you have one inmate on the left, three doors down. One on the right, two doors up from the last. I... I don't have sight on the last one. He was there, but I can't see him anymore, he's in a blind spot. Be careful." The billionaire nodded silently, easily making it to the first inmate. He could see the man, muttering to himself, staring at the corner of the padded cell, tapping his temple sporadically. His hair mussed and matted, his Arkham uniform stained with sweat. Bruce slipped by easily making his way to the end of the hall, trusting Barbra. He pressed himself against the wall near the cell with the inmate, the man inside paced aggrievedly back and forth, talking to himself.

"We should go, we should go, its open. We should go. We can't go, where would we go? We could find one, if we go. Pretty, they're pretty, we want one. We want one." Bruce held back a groan of annoyance, every time he moved the man would turn around. He was about to make a dash for it when Barbra's voice damaged his eardrum.

"Bruce!" Oracle called her voice drowned out by a sudden shriek, turning the Detective barely grabbed the man's clawed hands, angling them away from his eyes, he felt a sharp stinging pain down the side of his face, nails meeting his skin. He fell hard to the ground, right in front of the other inmate's cell.

"Get out!" The inmate from inside the cell yelled, but Bruce couldn't do anything not with the crazy trying to scratch his face off. He felt nails rake down his check again, blood rushing to the wound. These were going to be hard to explain. Getting a knee under the inmate he shoved his weight backwards throwing the man off of him. His ribs took a hard hit knocking the breath out of him, his body slid across the floor, gasping he slammed into the edge of the open door across the hall, the door jamb digging into his other side painfully. His ribs ached where the inmate's foot connected with him.

"I told you to get out!" The man screamed at him, rushing out of the cell, Bruce braced himself for another hit, rolling to his side, ready to catch the man's foot. The hit never came as the frenzied man from before mauled the inmate, taking them both to the ground. The Detective watched in horror as the inmate's eyes were scratched to pieces, blood streaming down his temples, his in human screams echoing down the hall. Bruce caught movement in the corner of his eye, the muttering man from down the hall had walked out of his cell, still hitting his head he shuffled forwards slowly gaining momentum, in both his hitting and his walking. The Detective cautiously rolled to his stomach, making sure to move slowly, not catching the mauler's attention. He shuffled backwards, holding in the gasp of pain as he moved his leg, blood already seeping through his bandages. This wound would be a bitch to heal. He got fully to his hands and knees as the shambler broke into a run. Screams still echoing through the hallway, making it impossible for the billionaire to hear anything. Bruce scrambled to his feet awkwardly, his leg giving out half way up and he fell backwards, the muttering man rushing full force into the screeching mass of bloody inmates, toppling over the two he fell to the floor, crushing the billionaire's wounded leg. Grunting in pain, Bruce lifted his free leg slamming one expensive shoe into the inmate's face, once, twice. He could hear Oracle yelling at him, panicked, but couldn't process what she was saying. He kicked him for a third time and the man went limp. The Detective placed his bloodied shoe against the man's slumped shoulders, pushing him off his injured leg. Sliding away from the inmate he looked up, the screaming had stopped. The mauler stood up hovering over the dead body breathing harshly. They stared at each other with a moment of silence and Bruce could finally hear Oracle's words.

"Hide, Bruce! Behind you! Oh god, Bruce! Get out of there! Do something! Get down!"

The billionaire could hear foot steps behind him, a click of metal and Bruce pressed himself back against the ground. Bullets rained over him, shredding through the crazed man hovering near him, blood and flesh flew through the air splattering the walls, floor and ceiling. His body fell in pieces to the floor, blood pooled on the ground near Bruce, his suit and face splattered with blood. There was a click of metal, the gun empty, and the fake playboy wanted to sigh in relief.

"I'm sorry Bruce, I'm so sorry, I didn't see the third one, I had thought and I wasn't watching, God, I'm sorry. I should have been paying attention. This is all my fault." Bruce really wanted her to stop talking, he needed all of his senses, but he couldn't say anything, couldn't draw attention to himself. There was a clattering of metal against the floor behind him and the new inmate rushed, past him. It was a younger woman, the Arkham uniform hanging off her delicate frame, her hair just as matted and tangled as the rest of them. She stood transfixed over the bodies, staring down at the mass of blood and flesh. She fell to her knees in fascination, placing a shaking palm into the pool of blood, the hall eerily quiet. Only her heavy breathing echoing through the room.

"Bruce are you okay? Please be okay!" Bruce hastily reached up, clicking Oracle's channel off. The woman stiffened her eyes glancing around the hallway, before turning back to the blood. Silence reigned and the woman shuffled back a little, drawing designs on floor where the pooling blood had yet to take. The Detective took a slowly moving backwards, he put some distance between them. Finally he rolled onto his stomach, making his way quietly to his feet. He briefly took in the view before him, guards and inmates were strewn across the floor. Windows were shattered in the guard station, blood dripped down the wall out of one window, blood splattered across the glass.

The guard that had offered to accompany him yesterday lay wide eyed on the ground a few feet from him. Bruce turned away, looking back, making sure the female inmate was still preoccupied in her sick past time. Clicking Oracle back on he was met with the same mantra or worry. He could really use her sight right now, but he couldn't say anything. Creeping past the edge of the gate, he crouched down, moving slowly into the room, trusting Barbra would say something other then apologies if he actually needed to know something. Sweeping the room for any sign of movement he crept towards the edge of the platform. He hesitated briefly, before dropping down silently to the ground below, disturbed by the artwork drawn in human blood on the walls and beneath his feet. A shuffling movement came from up ahead. Gritting his teeth he made his way out of sight, his leg protesting violently against the movement.

"Oracle, I need you. To be my eyes." He whispered as quietly as possible, finding his way to some pipes. He waited for any more signs of movement.

"I know, I know. You should be fine I can't see anyone out there, that doesn't mean there isn't anyone, Bruce just hide somewhere and let the police handle it. They're almost there." She pleaded, and Bruce rolled his eyes.

"No. I need to get back here, I need to help." 

"No you don't! Bruce just stop!"

"Then I'll do it without you." Bruce growled, placing a hand on his ear piece, he didn't have time for this.

"Bruce don't! Your bleeding every where."

"Barbra. I can do this. I am, Batman." He whispered quietly glancing around, and the woman sighed, when she remained silent he left the channel open, slowly making his way across the room.

"Fine, but if you die, its not my fault." She gritted out.

"Sounds fair." Bruce muttered, stopping he peered around a corner, meeting eyes with a terrified guard hiding behind some pipes. 'Stay there,' he mouthed, and the guard stared at him like he was crazy when he moved on. The rest of the way was easy sailing and he was almost to the main entrance of Intensive Care when Oracle spoke up. Having avoided all the crazies so far without incident. Barbra had been right, there weren't many left inside.

"There's a group of men heading towards you, they're all armed. They look like guards but, you never know..." Bruce glanced around, dashing into a side office he pressed himself against the wall, voices echoed through the hall. Electricity sparked from a broken monitor, his hand left blood smeared on the metal. Glancing behind him he took in the room, papers strewn across the floor, blood pooled near his shoes. He shuffled away from it looking up.

"He's gotta be here, Jim said he didn't come out, you were watching the entire time right Jim?"

"Yeah mostly. That freak got me in the arm. I'm going to need shots, man." The voices echoed to him, gruff and vulgar. A guard sat slumped over onto his desk a gun in his hand, a bullet wound to the back of his head. Blood pooled on the table streaming to the floor where it formed a growing puddle.

"Yeah, we can do that after we've got The Joker. If anything comes out of this shit, it'll be his dead body."

"And we get a bonus! Woot woot."

"Check all the rooms, wouldn't want that bastard to get away. You know how sneaky he is." Bruce silently cursed to himself as their footsteps got closer. He slipped farther into the room, rushing forward he grabbed the body, pulling it a little. He got onto his stomach in the pool of blood he reached back up giving the dead man one last tug. The body fell onto him, crushing him against the ground, the philanthropist rearranged the body as much as he could before the footsteps reached the door. Turning his head away from the enterece he slowed his breathing, his cheek smeared with blood. A single pair of boots stalked into the room mere seconds later, shuffling around, checking it out. Blood soaked into his jacket, matting his hair, it was still warm, the copper smell assaulting his senses. Footsteps came closer and the guards body shifted on top of him, something pressed down on the body, pressing Bruce deeper into the blood, crushing his already bruised ribs.

"Poor Derek." The man muttered, the pressure lifting, and the boots in the hall paused.

"Shit! Not Derek! I used to take his lunches, great stuff. His wife cooks amazing food, wouldn't mind getting a piece of that ass."

"Hey! Now you can!" Someone answered.

"Yeah guess your right!" The group laughed, and Bruce's stomach turned, wishing he could pound their faces in. Seconds later the boots exited the room, the groups footsteps echoing down the hall. The sound of electricity was the only sound left after. He felt blood trickling down his neck and knew it wasn't his.

"Okay, your clear." Barbra finally stated, "Outsides a mess though, if you stick to the shadows you might make it, but people are all over the place out there. I wont be able to help you much." He pushed the body off of him, he'd never been covered in so much blood, not someone else's. It took him a second to get his bearings. Get over the feel of it on his skin, in his clothes and hair. How the cool air made it thick and cold. He peeled himself off the ground a Bruce shaped imprint in the blood left behind before he dropped the dead body back to the floor.

"What happened to Dr. Mengele?" Bruce asked darkly, curious if she slipped out before the madness, or during it. This was all her fault, these deaths were on her, and he was going to make sure she saw justice. Making his way stickily back to the hallway, he tried to ignore how drenched and irritating his suit felt.

"She's in the mansion. Barely made it, from what I saw." Barbra replied, while the new proud owner of Arkham quickly made his way over the bodies lining the last hallway to the exit.

"Good." The Detective muttered darkly, placing one hand against the door to the outside he let it creak open, just enough for him to fit. He peaked out quickly, when nothing attacked him he slipped out rushing to the closest bushes, ducking behind them before anyone could see him. He surveyed the area, taking in the chaos it really was. It wasn't very far to the front gate, but the grounds were a war zone. Inmates had taken over one of the guard towers, the other still occupied by the guards. Bullets rained across the clearing, embedding in the walls, shooting up the shrubbery. Bodies littered the ground, their blood soaking into the soil, a downed man near him coughed pathetically, blood gurgling out of his mouth, one hand laying uselessly against one of his many wounds. A pack of inmates brawled near the base of the guard tower, while some were simply crouched behind bushes, muttering to themselves. Bullet shells decorated the ground like morbid snow, new ones joining them every few seconds, sprinkling from the guard tower.

"I told you hiding would be better." Oracle muttered defiantly. Bruce sighed in irritation, charting out a safe path to the exit. If he circled around the left, sticking to the bushes and making his way to the ruins, he should be able to make it without getting shot or mauled.

"Bruce, please, just wait, the police are setting up road blocks right now. It'll be less then ten minutes for them to get there." The Detective frowned at that. He couldn't afford to be held up by the police for questioning, Batman had to be here, while Bruce Wayne should not.

"Oracle send the Bat Mobile, I would like to get out of here without talking to the police."

"You know they'll hunt you down, once they realize you own the place." Barbra stated dryly while Bruce wiped his blood covered palms on his just as dirty Armani suit pants, his butt being the other thing not covered in blood.

"Delete all of the footage of me. They don't need to know I was here." Bruce decided taking another look at the chaos around him, again. Whatever was happening with the fist fights, someone had apparently won, because there was a smaller group now huddled behind one of the buildings, taking cover from the guard tower, a few more bodies had joined the already downed ones.

"Your car?" Barbra asked, doubt in her voice.

"Alfred dropped me off. I didn't want a Lamborghini sitting in the parking lot of Arkham." Oracle huffed in frustration.

"Alright, its done. Bruce. Please don't do this."

"Stop trying Barbra." The Detective gritted out, checking his next cover for any signs of movement.

"Fine." She answered dryly. Bruce crept out from his coverage when the inmates closest to him had their backs turned, arguing with each other behind the building. He slowly made his way to the left keeping in the shadows. It helped that his undershirt was no longer white, but red wasn't that better of a color. He stopped near the entrance heading towards the penitentiary, surveying his surroundings again. He was just about to dash across the opening when the door opened and a few guards ran in, armed, and started shooting immediately. Culling down the inmates that were hiding behind the building before they could move a muscle. Bruce crouched back down, letting the guards run past him only to be shot down immediately by the inmates in the tower. Bruce closed his eyes, refusing to watch more people die. Taking a second he smeared dirt across any visible white left on him, mostly the back of his collar. The door to the next area closed slowly, just before it shut an inmate dashed out of a bush on the other side the entrance, where he had been planning on hiding, letter opener in hand, the inmate slipped through the door.

Bruce waited a few seconds after the door closed, realizing what a disaster that could have been. If he had been stabbed on top of his already sustained injuries he wouldn't be coming back here tonight. Taking a few more seconds to examine the the chaos he waited for a lull in the raining bullets. When the guards shot at the inmates across the way he dashed across the open space. Falling into the bushes before the inmates could return fire. He wanted to take some time to get the feeling back into his leg, he could feel the blood soaking into his pants, mingling with the guards, but could only feel a deep seeded throb from his injury. He needed to get it taken care of and quickly. He had one last dash to make before he was in the ruins protected by the decrepit walls from stray bullets. He waited for another attack from the guards, before dashing forward, but someone ran out of bullets and the inmates returned fire sooner then they should have. A bullet landed in the ground in front of him, barely missing. He froze for only a second, rushing forward as the bullets started to rain, a sting shot through his arm and his good leg, before he dived into the ruins. He rolled clumsily landing in a heap, bullets chipped away at the building's walls. Stray bullets slipping through the cracks rained brick down upon him, dust falling into his eyes, making him blink rapidly, half blind.

"Bruce are you okay? Bruce!" Oracle shouted over and over again. He covered his eyes with one arm, keeping the debris out of his eyes, ignoring the sting he turned to take in the blood gushing down his other bicep. When there was a lull in bullets, Bruce ripped the jacket open farther revealing a deep gash in his arm. Blood spilled out of it, but there was no bullet, just a deep cut. Turning to his leg he rolled the pant up, blood trickled down his calf, but it was definitely a more shallow wound then his arm.

"I'm fine Barbra, calm down." He finally stated, deciding to get a move on before they started shooting again, he crouched down moving farther through the ruins, keeping pressure on his arm. He could hear shouting on the other side, the bullets started up again, but they were behind him now, near the guard tower. He could feel exhaustion pull at him, he had lost enough blood that it was finally effecting him. There was a movement behind one of the walls, white flashed, muttering, but it didn't seem like the inmate was moving much. Bruce moved past them, careful not to make any noises, trying to get a glimpse of the hidden inmate all he saw was their back bent over on themselves, blood splatters everywhere. Turning away he made it to the end of the ruins, the gate just a short distance ahead. Trees, bushes and debris littering the way for him. Taking his time he glanced around, trying to catch any other inmates hiding in his path. Deciding he was safe to move farther he rushed out, he made it two steps when noise sounded from behind him. He fell into a crouch behind some discarded junk hidden behind some bushes, twisting around his eyes widened.

"Barbra, I thought you said the Joker had left."

"I lost track of him, why? Bruce?" Bruce reached his hand up cutting her off. He didn't need the distraction not with the madman's crazed eyes zeroed right on to his injured self.

"Hey there, sweetheart. Aren't you looking great! Red is definitely your color." The Joker giggled, he was covered in more blood then Bruce was. The Detective glanced behind him, not willing to turn his back to the Clown. He wasn't sure he could make it with his injuries, not right now. Blood dripped off The Joker's hand spattering to the ground and Bruce wondered if not all of that blood belonged to other people, it was strange seeing the male injured by someone other then Batman.

"I was wondering when I would find you." The madman sung stepping closer to Bruce. The Detective couldn't afford to let him get closer, so he took a chance, dashing to the next covering. His leg faltered and he stumbled rolling into the bushes ungracefully, his hands slapping the ground painfully. Shouting came from behind him, a vicious snarl, and someone was clawing at his legs, ripping him backwards, nail's digging into his calf, ripping his shallow bullet graze open farther. Flipping over he immediately kicked the Joker hard in the face. His nose crunched, teeth clattering together, the madman fell off of him. Bruce scrambled to his feet making a mad dash for the exit. Bullets chipped the tree ahead of him and he dropped to the ground instantly to avoid getting shot, wood chips rained down on him.

"Come back here!" The Joker called after him scrambling to his feet as well. He ignored the bullets, barely faltering in his steps when one pierced his shoulder. The madman stumbled to stand over Bruce, blood streaming down his scared face. The playboy started a slow shuffle backwards, staying as close to the ground as possible, ready to intercept the crazed male if he jumped on him again. The bullets stopped and it seemed the Joker had a different plan, jerking off course he placed blood soaked hands over a large rock, lifting it from the ground with a demented smile, he turned towards Bruce, a feral insane grin bursting at his lips.

"How about! We rearrange that look a little! I think you need a bit more, scars! We can make jackets, sweetheart!" The Joker laughed lifting the rock over his head, Bruce tensed, his muscles ready to roll out of the way the second the man twitched, but he didn't have to. The Joker's head exploded in a shower of blood, brains, and bits of bone, the rock fell with a violent thud, his body jerking with every bullet that riddled it. A gun clicked empty, the body finally falling to the floor in a crumbled heap. Turning his head slowly The Detective stared dumbfounded at a guard. The man was standing bow legged, his eyes wide, a machine gun in his pale white knuckled grip.

"Is he dead?" The man stuttered fearfully letting the gun fall to the ground. The billionaire shook his head, shocked.

"You need to hide. Get out of here." Bruce insisted scrambling to his feet again, he checked the tower full of inmates, thankful they hadn't noticed them yet.

"Now." Bruce stated rushing towards the exit, the guard ran after him fearfully.

"Those wont open. Not unless you have a key card we don't have! And any bastard that had one is already gone."

"I don't need a key." The detective said, clicking Oracle back on.

"Barbra?"

"Bruce. What the hell happened?"

"I'll explain later I'm at the door,"

"I know, it's open." Oracle stated, Bruce pulled the handle almost falling at how easily it turned, he pushed it open and they slipped out.

"Barbra watch the door let anyone not an inmate out."

"Will do Bruce. Now get out of there."

"Will do, Barbra." The Detective mocked limping his way out.

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

The bat mobile wasn't hard to find, treating his wounds took longer then he wanted, and getting back to the asylum, now raided by GCPD, took forever. All Batman had to do now, with the help of Robin, something he didn't approve of, was clean up any stand offs the police were encountering. They made quick work of those encounters, sticking around afterwards to watch the clean up. Bruce and Tim were standing in the shadows on top of the asylum ruins near the front, watching the police clean up the mess with countless body bags. Robin was leaning against the wall staring down at a pool of blood on the ground. A mess left by the broken, shredded body of the Joker.

"It seems a little. Un-climatic." Robin whispered in a stunned awe leaning against a crumbling wall, watching the blood slowly soak into the ground.

"It was. If he wanted to die with a bang, he should have just let go in Arkham City." Batman growled following Tim's gaze.

"Yeah, now that was a shock, you remember when the call came in, that he was alive." Robin recalled a smirk on his face, meeting Bruce's eyes. Batman chuckled shaking his head in remembered disbelief.

"I carried him. Out of Arkham City. It took me, at least fifteen minutes. He was cold Robin. Disfigured. Dead. The amount of serum he lapped up, it shouldn't have been enough."

"But it was, that guy, he was insane but, he was a surviver. He took your beatings pretty well." Robin joked punching the Bat in his bad arm. Bruce hissed gripping his now bandaged wound, leveling the teen with an aggravated look.

"Sorry," Tim muttered holding up his hands in surrender. They sat in companionable silence for several more minutes, watching more body bags be carried out.

"I'm glad hes gone." Robin muttered pushing away from the wall, Bruce hummed in agreement, trying to imagine what the world would be like without the madman. Quieter that was for sure, less chaotic, less mysterious, confusing. Suddenly his com turned on, he could hear Barbra breathing on the other side, he frowned. Could hear her almost start talking but, stop herself.

"Oracle?" Batman called and Robin stopped walking towards the edge of the building, turning his attention back to his mentor, who looked tired, scabbing scratches just visible trailing out of his cowl.

"Bruce. I mean, Batman. I, you said you saw The Joker, uh, die?" She asked confusion evident in her voice. Robin clicked on his own line, tapping into theirs.

"Yeah, right in front of me. Don't worry Oracle I'm not going to be losing any sleep over it."

"I wouldn't doubt that, because... God I can't believe I'm saying this." She exhaled almost painfully. Bruce stood in silence waiting, almost knowing he didn't want to hear it just as much as she didn't want to say it.

"Come on Babs, stop making us wait." Robin stated, echoing though the line, impatiently crossing his arms even though the woman couldn't see it.

"He's taken hostages. On the clock tower in the old church." Silence reigned on both ends after her rushed words.

"I, What? That. Can't be, I saw him die. He was in front of me. His head exploded." Bruce muttered confused, placing one hand on his ear piece to make sure he was hearing her correctly.

"I saw the body." Robin confirmed with equal confusion.

"Yeah well, Vicki has it all over the news right now, Batman, its him. I can see him, its him."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know but you should get over there. He has them dangling from the sides. I don't think he'll wait much longer." She informed him and Bruce was afraid to ask.

"What is he waiting for?" There was another pause, the silence hanging over the line, like she was surprised he had to ask.

"You."

"Of course." It took several seconds for Bruce to process this, it wasn't possible. Clayface must be back. There was no possible way the Joker was still alive. He had just seen his face splattered over the ground. It wasn't possible, it just wasn't. Was it? Something was happening here and he didn't have all the information. For now. But he would get to the bottom of this, right now he had a Clown to stop.

"Want me to come? You're not really, at the top of your game." Robin muttered grabbing the older male's forearm before he could take off.

"No. I want you here. I don't want you anywhere near The Joker. He's a lose cannon. I wont risk it." Batman leveled his partner with a piercing look, daring him to fight it.

"And you think I'd risk you?" Tim asked incredulously, his grip tightening on his mentors arm, irritated at the man's constant stubborness. Bruce's face softened under his cowl, he turned towards the teen, the kid always knew what to say. Placing both hands on the boys shoulders he squeezed reassuringly, meeting nothing but rigid muscle and an irritated glare.

"I know. This isn't fair, and its risky, but he wont kill me Robin." His grip tightened.

"He will kill you. You made a promise." The teen broke eye contact at those words, looking back up pain evident in his blue orbs, they stared at each other unblinking. Bruce's jaw tight, Tim's stature rigid, both unwilling to back down. Finally Robin sighed letting his head fall forward in defeat.

"Fine. It's stupid, but your right. He wont kill you, and, he would kill me. Your lucky I made that promise." Tim glared up at him, and Batman smirked back, ruffling the kids hair.

"It's why I asked for it." Robin shook his head, his lips parting to release a frustrated gust of air, slipping out of the man's palm.

"Look if things go south. Promise me. No." He growled in agitation grabbing the man's arm tightly, "Promise. Me." Tim stated more forcefully, when Bruce didn't seem to be taking him seriously. "You will call me in. Promise." Batman gritted his teeth, his jaw line stiffening.

"I promise." He gritted out, not meeting the teen's eyes.

"Good. You better get going, wouldn't want any more bodies under your belt tonight." Robin joked, Batman leveled him with a disgruntled glare.

"This wasn't my fault." He growled looking back at the carnage over the grounds, Tim laughed awkwardly, he had meant it as a joke, but his anger got the better of him.

"I didn't mean it like, your right, its not. It's that doctor's fault. Speaking of, I'm going to search for anything I can find on her." Robin agreed, willing to spend hours tracking down everything on the woman to fix his momentary lack of control.

"Sounds good." Bruce said his heart feeling heavy all the same.

"Don't keep me in the dark on this one." Robin added staring Batman down. Bruce brushed the gaze off, jumping off the crumbling building, making a bee line for the Bat Mobile parked outside the gate. A com opened up just as Bruce touched down on the blood soaked ground, near the door out.

"I mean it, don't leave me in the dark." The teen's voice came over his ear piece.

"Fine, Robin. Don't you have a doctor to track down?"

"Your impossible."

"Runs in the family." Bruce countered, Robin laughed joyously loving when they were group together as a unit, reminded that despite being an orphan he still did have a family.

"Yes it does." The teen chuckled, cutting the line. Batman let a smile mold his angular lips, slipping out the door.

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

Batman swallowed hard, crouched on a grungy rooftop, gritting his teeth. Barbra hadn't been lying. It was the Joker. It looked like the Joker. Catcalled like the Joker. The madman stood on top of the tower, the giant bell resting above him, his voice echoing irritatingly through it. The Clown had a megaphone, cackling away as he toed the ropes holding his latest victims from falling to their deaths, watching them scream, swinging dangerously against the side of the building. Taking a deep breath, The Bat opened a com-link to Robin, he could actually use his help, but only if he would stay away from the Joker. A helicopter hovered in the air a good distance away from the tower, at least Vicki had learned her lesson in Arkham City.

"Robin."

"Holy shit, are you actually calling me? Are you okay? I'm on my way." He answered over the link, Batman could hear him running across buildings, wind rushing through the microphone.

"I'm fine, I need you to rescue the civilians while I keep The Joker occupied. Theres no way I can save them and keep him from noticing. I could take him down, maybe before he cut any ropes, but I don't want to risk it."

"I'm almost there."

"How close were you?" The Detective narrowed his eyes as the com went dead.

"Hey." Robin's voice called from behind him and Batman rolled his eyes.

"Of course." Bruce muttered, Tim had the decency to smile sheepishly at him when he gazed over his shoulder. Turning back around Batman surveyed the situation again.

"Here's the plan," He started as Robin took his place beside him, crouching down and taking in the situation as well. "I'm going to go in there, play the Clown's sick game. While you silently bring down the civis."

"Gotcha." Robin stated ready to push off, and get started.

"Robin." Batman grabbed his shoulder stopping him, the teen looked at him their eyes once more.

"You can't let him know you're there. The second he realizes he's losing leverage – ." The teen ripped out of his grip.

"I can do this." Robin insisted leveling Batman with a hurt indignant expression.

"I know you can. It's why I called you, but if anything happens, anything, if he sees you, get out." Bruce stated with finality, turning his sights back to the tower, he pushed off, easily gliding his way silently into the building. The walls were chipping apart, just as decrepit as most of the lower class areas. The clock high above them, its gears and levers no longer turning, frozen in time until someone decided to care. The bell, situated in the center, hovered like a giant, it's rusted brass reflecting blurred images, a dash of black, a smudge of purple. The Clown froze on the other side of the open space, pillars and archways the only thing lining the open platform, his back to The Bat, as if he could simply feel his mere presence. The madman did a tiny dance, his joy so vast not a sound escaped his throat, spinning around slowly he threw his arms open in greeting, his mouth moving wordlessly a few times.

"Bats! Baby! You have no idea! How much I've miiiii-ssed you!" The Joker squealed excitedly, his hands coming up to frame his crimson smeared lips in joy.

"Look at you! I mean really, Look. At. You. Sweetheart! I'm so glad you could make it!" He laughed happily

"Oh, I'm sure they're ecstatic to see you as well." The madman stage whispered pointing down to his hostages with a giggle. Batman took a few steps to the side, the Joker mirrored him, starting up their little dance.

"I thought you died." The Bat stated as they paced around the building, a gentle wind blowing through, the bell above them not even paying it any attention, his cape however rustled in the breeze, the Joker's hair swayed, their eyes locked on each other.

"Oh trust me, babe, I thought I was dead too! But, Batsy! I couldn't leave you! Not all to your lonesome, grim self." The Joker smirked, Bruce narrowed his eyes, something wasn't quite... falling into place, never mind that, he had to keep the Clown distracted.

"I saw your head explode." Batman grunted, maybe he could get something out of him, stopping their little spin around the room, his boots scuffing the ground. The Joker licked his lips frowning, he click his tongue once raising an eyebrow in wonder.

"Now, that. That! Must have been fun! Whatever you were on sweetheart you should let me try it! I bet we'd have a blast together! The you and I." He chuckled rolling onto the heels of his feet, his gloved hand gesturing between them. Pursing his lips he gave The Bat a once over. Taking in his firm muscles and rigid plains. His angular jaw line, and sharp lips, the small scratches gracing his lower cheeks. Bruce took the small pause to take in the man's disheveled suit, obnoxious pattern shirt, purple gloves, pressed pants. His scared lips, white teeth, green hair falling playfully into his even more vivid green eyes. Eyes that refused to leave him, full of a glazed madness.

"Really though, sweetheart, that must have been some dream you had, nightmare really. I mean. Me! Dead? As if. We've had that scare before, now, haven't we?" The Joker asked with a smile, eyeing Batman for a reaction, a sneer pulled at his lips when the vigilante didn't answer.

"Scarecrow got your tongue?" The clown questioned tilting his head with smirk, Bruce gritted his teeth, he didn't feel like playing games tonight, his leg was killing him, his arm throbbed painfully. He could feel exhaustion pulling at him, but this was nothing compared to the night in Arkham City, then again he didn't have two full fledged bullet wounds that night. He may have been dying but he'd take dizzy spells over this sharp pain any day. No, he took that back. Dizzy spells were more dangerous.

"What do you want Joker?" Batman growled irritated, his eyes narrowing onto the Clown, flexing his gloved hands, his cape swaying more as the wind picked up. The Prince of Anarchy took a step back like the vigilante had been slapped. His hand to his chest dramatically.

"Want?!" The Joker asked incredulously, fixing with a wide eyed stare, frowning he leaned forward tilting his head down.

"What have I always wanted, Batsy?" He asked in a whisper.

"I don't know." The caped crusader stated, he wanted to cross his arms, but didn't want to risk inhibiting his movement, so he settled for flexing his gloved hands.

"Oh don't be like that! You. Know. You know! You, will always! Know. It's there hiding, but you know." The Joker ranted cryptically and all Batman wanted to do was smash his face in.

"Come on guess, Sweetheart! Just take a guess. Oh!" The Clown jumped in his spot, suddenly terribly excited, he snapped his gloved fingers a few times, like he was thinking of something.

"We'll make it game out of it! Shall we?! For every time you get it wrong. We'll drop one of these beautiful people to their deaths!" The Joker cackled kicking one of the ropes merrily, a grin plastered on his face. Then he froze, his smile falling off his lips, cocking his head to the side, he hooked his foot around the rope, moving it violently so it swayed a little against the edge of the building. Then he listened, Batman held his breath. Robin wasn't done yet. The Joker kicked it again and a scream sounded, after a long second. The madman, looked a little skeptical but turned back to him with a sheepish grin.

"The help these days am I right? So let's play sweetheart! Guess number one!" He giggled throwing one gloved finger up in delight.

"I'm not playing your games." Batman growled taking a step to the side, starting up their dance again.

"Well that's no fun Bats. Lets give you a little incentive shall we?" The Joker growled back, crouching down near one of the ropes, a pocket knife flashing in the moonlight.

"Joker don't." The Detective shouted holding out a gloved hand, taking a step towards him, and the madman leisurely turned to him, knife held taunt against the rope, waiting for the man to make any sudden movements.

"Guess one, Bats." The Joker smiled sadistically at him. Bruce took a deep breath, trying to think of the answer the madman was looking for.

"Lets make it a count down?" The Prince of Anarchy suggested, just as the vigilante's communications came to life.

"Ten."

"Hey." Robin's voice came over the line, "Its done. Have fun in there, he's got nothing."

"Nine." Batman let out a breath of relief, he leveled the Joker with a smirk, who in turned narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Eight."

"Thanks." The Detective muttered back to his partner and the Clown cocked his head to the side, the smile falling from his painted lips.

"Seven?" The Clown said almost as if he wasn't too sure about this idea any more.

"Alright Joker. I'll play your game." Bruce gave in, trying to keep the satisfied smirk off his face. The Joker stood back up, watching Batman suspiciously. The Detective took a few steps towards the ledge to his left, almost like he was going to start up pacing, before turning back to the Clown with a scowl.

"I'm here. For your own sick perverse idea of fun." Batman growled at the madman, who smirked back at him. The madman made a disappointed sound in the back of his throat, taking a deep breath through his nose.

"Not quite." The Joker gushed, quickly crouching he sliced through a rope, his muscles tense ready to dash away from the angry Bat... but nothing happened. Batman didn't jump at him furious, didn't try to save his victims from falling, screaming to their death. Screaming. The realization dawned on the Clown's face, and he rushed to the edge, crouching down he peered over, gaping down at the empty ropes hanging harmlessly over the sides. It was Batman's turn to chuckle darkly, it was about time he got his own laugh on the Joker. He paced to the right, taking his time on walking across the area.

"Whats wrong Joker? Not the help you wanted?" The Detective mocked and The Clown turned towards him from his crouched position with an angry scowl, his fingers clawing at the ground. Bruce stopped on the other side of the open space, watching the Joker's feral eyes trail after him. Batman crossed his arms, muscles sliding under black Kevlar, pushing at the fabric as his muscles bunched. He leaned against a pillar casually, not turning his back to the man, his cape flapping a little less gently now that he was closer to the edge.

"So tell me, Joker. What is it that you want?" Batman asked deeply, staring the Joker straight in the eye, the eyes that met his with an unfamiliar madness. Bruce's eyes narrowed on The Clown, who opened his mouth to reply through gritted teeth, his purple gloved hands clenched, a few strands of hair falling into his face, sticking to his paint.

"You Bats." A familiar voice whispered darkly from behind him, panic thrilled through Bruce's body at the sound, tingling down his spine. The Joker in front of him snapped his mouth shut his eyes narrowing. Slowly turning his head, Batman looked behind him, a breath of disbelief leaving his lips. It was impossible, he blinked slowly, hopefully, but the sight didn't change. Another Joker stood behind him, absent of make-up, an Arkham uniform torn and shredded, he still had pieces of a straitjacket still hugging parts of his lithe frame. Batman pushed away from the pillar, taking a few level steps over, putting the open arch way to his back, keeping his escape options open. Turning his head one way he saw the first Joker still crouched down near the ropes, still dressed in his signature outfit, face still painted with the disgusting oil based colors. Turning to the opposite side the second, messy, blood stained Joker still stood, the hatch to the lower levels open behind him. There were two of them. How was that possible? Clayface again? Would the man even consider playing the same ploy twice? Why show it if he had?

"What is this?" He hissed out trying to keep both of them in his sight, but having a hard time considering they were on opposite sides of the tower. He could handle one madman, but two? At the same time? The Joker usually put up a better fight then ninety percent of the criminals he brought down, two of them while he was injured? This definitely wasn't his night.

"Now that! Is a great question, Bats Baby." The second Joker broke the silence, his voice getting breathy as he spoke Batman's pet name, like he had missed the way it felt on his lips. The madman tilted his with a smirking smile, his eyes never leaving the other Clown, he took a few steps towards the left side of the clock tower, putting some distance between himself and the vigilante.

"Let's ask, uh, well. I guess me, right?!" The Arkham Joker laughed darkly, leveling his piercing eyes on the dolled up Joker across the room. The first Joker stood up from his crouched position fixing the second one with a look of disappointed confusion, they looked each other over, taking themselves in. The first Clown's painted lips curled in disgust, while the second one simply raised an eyebrow in amusement. There was another half minute of silence, before the second madman spoke up again, one hand absently moving up to delicately press against his chest.

"So come on you handsome beast! What are! You doing here? Your cramping my style, love!" The blood covered Joker trailed off in a growl, one hand thrown out exaggeratively, his arm littered with scrapes and bruises, blood spattered and saturated, what was left of his clothing. The suited up Clown raised both of his eyebrows, watching the new comer like he was a bad actor pretending to be on his level. A slightly amused chuckled left the painted lips, and the first Clown tilted his head with a incredulous noise through his teeth, he turned his attention towards Batman.

"So what is this, sweetheart? Some kind of joke? I have to admit your sense of humor is..." The first madman lifted his gloved hand in the air, looking down at the ground, like he was trying to grasp the words he was looking for, then he gave up with a haughty smirk and a shrug of his shoulders.

"But! You!" The man continued, turning back, leveling the other Prince of Crime with a purple gloved finger.

"You could use some work. You're, uh, missing a little something, there, and here, and well, everywhere sweetheart." The dressed up Joker giggled pointing to his painted face first, then at his attire in a grand gesture. The newly arrived Joker cried out in exasperation, throwing his head back with a growl of annoyance, as the first one started talking again.

"Can't believe you left the house dressed like that! Where is your pride, sweetheart?!" The first clown cried exasperated, while the second tilted his head back forward, leveling his dressed up half with a disgusted glare, his scared lips sneering. Then he turned his attention to the ground, shaking his head a little.

"Sweet. Heart." The blood stained man whispered quietly, his eyes on the floor, Bruce barely picking it up his breathy words.

"Sweetheart." He said again this time louder letting the clown across the room hear him, snapping his gaze back to the first Joker, leveling him with a piercing look.

"Sweetheart. Sweetheart! Sweeeeetheart!" He said matching the same exasperation the other clown had shown moments before, gesturing towards the other with a blood soaked hand. His hand clenched in a fist snapping back to his side, his other hand still holding his chest.

"Good lord! You sound! Like a broken record." He growled sneering, showing yellowed teeth.

"Are you. Hearing! This guy, fire cracker?" The blood soaked Joker asked licking his lips, fixing Batman with half lidded eyes and one raised eyebrow. Bruce met his eyes, finding the insane intelligence he was used to seeing. The piercing gaze that found your soul, rather then your thoughts.

"Talk about a loonie! Coo-coo." The makeup-less madman twirled his finger over around his temple, catching some of his blood stained green hair in the process, and Bruce got it. The worlds greatest detective and he didn't notice it before, couldn't see it, hear it. Turning his attention to the first Joker, he stared, trying to work it out, how it was possible, how he could look so...

"Who are you?" He grunted leveling the dressed up Joker with an accusing stare, the man simply looked taken aback, actually taking one step backwards, one purple gloved hand gripping at his heart as if he was wounded by the Bat's words.

"And we have a winner!" The bloodied Joker shouted, smirking in pride.

"Uh, Excuse me?!" The madman growled stepping back forward again, meeting the vigilante's gaze with his own heated stare.

"I'm pretty sure. I'm me! But if he's me, and, uh, we're us. Then who are you, sweetheart?!" The dressed up male cackled, gesturing towards Batman and the other Joker didn't look impressed, a sneer running across his blood stained face.

"That wasn't an answer."

"It just wasn't the one you wanted." The painted Clown replied. The Arkham Joker growled deeply leveling his other self with a disgustedly annoyed sneer.

"I think I've had enough of this." The blood soaked Joker hissed, his breath hitching, Bruce's eyes widened and he lunged forward, but not fast enough to stop him. The shot went off, the bullet landing straight between the first Joker's dolled up eyes. The body crumpled backwards hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Batman grabbed The Joker's wrist twisting it violently, his grip slipping only slightly on the blood covered skin. The Clown hissed in pain, dropping the gun into the vigilante's outstretched hand. Batman instantly slid out the bullet cartilage, kicking it violently. It slid noisily over the cement ground, falling over the edge, clattering against the ornate structure. Taking apart few more pieces, he tossed the remainder of the gun away from them, the pieces echoing weakly across the ground. The bell above them still sung from the blast of the shot, ringing loudly.

"Why did you do that?" He growled loudly in anger over the ring, grabbing the man by the tattered shirt, he hauled him off the floor, as far as his arm could lift him. The Joker dangled lightly in his grip, a dark chuckle vibrating through his chest and throat. One pale hand gripped weakly at his own black gloved one.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Sweeeeeetheart." He mocked with a giggle, before taking in a sudden breath cutting it off.

"I think you need to calm down." The madman stated, the smile never leaving his face.

"He could have told us what was going on. Unless you know?" The vigilante accused him pulling the madman in closer. The Joker visibly shivered in his hand, licking his chapped lips with a breathy laugh. This close up Bruce could see all of the Joker's imperfections, the dark circles under his eyes.

"I love. When you talk like that." The Clown moaned his other hand making itself at home on Batman's Kevlar covered chest, it slipped a little blood smearing over the bat symbol.

"What is going on?!" The Dark Knight thundered, shaking the Joker like a ragged doll, who simply giggled and gasped in his grip, his hands tightening against the vigilante.

"I. Don't. Know." The madman gritted out his head flopping back and forth violently, Batman stopped letting the smaller male smile lazily at him. He could smell the blood covering the Clown, his rancid breath and unwashed body oder, could see the oil and sweat on the man's face. To be honest he smelled sick, his skin shallow, paler then usual.

"But knowing you, we sure as hell will find out! Right?!" The man laughed, breaking off he took a deep slow rattling breath, hissing in pain, he shifted in the vigilante's grasp letting his hand fall to his side in annoyance, leaving him to simply dangle in his grip, the hand on his chest still remained however. The touch soft enough that Bruce barely noticed it.

"Hey hey, Why don't we play a little less violently tonight? 'Ey Bats?" The hand on his chest moved onto his index and middle finger, walking up the man's chest and over his collar bone.

"I mean, Batsy, babe, you know I love our little rough get-togethers, but we both look like, uh, shit." The man tapped him on the cowl covered nose.

"Tonight." The Joker suggested quietly, his breathing labored. Batman growled, still tossing him to the ground none to gently, the clown landed in a heap, a gasp of pain forcefully leaving his lungs. He groaned in pain slowly letting his body flop fully onto the ground. Turning his head to watch the well toned man stalk over to the dead body, apparently not at all worried about the still breathing Clown sprawled out on the floor. The dead madman lay on the ground near the edge of the building, blood pooling beneath his head, matting the green hair. The blood oozed down the edge of the building, his eyes frozen wide in shock, already glazing over, blood trailed down his painted features. The Bat knelt down, inspecting the dead madman's face. His scared cheeks, teeth, his gloves coming away smeared with lipstick, taking in his open eyes, examining the shade of green. He wasn't sure... turning back to the other one, who grinned at him from his downed position. He noticed that their eyes were different shades of green. The living one's eyes more vibrant, deadly.

"That. Is not me Tiger." The Joker mumbled tiredly, apparently this night had been just as harrowing on him as it had been on Bruce, if the Clown wasn't already on him again.

"I know." Batman muttered back tearing his eyes from the other male.

"Ooooh? Do you now? Because a few minutes ago, you were taunting him like you had some kind of connection." The madman growled, jealousy coloring his tone.

"I thought he was you." The Bat said off handedly, lost in his speculations on how or what this dead man was, or had been. The Joker grinned genuinely, letting out the most normal flattered laugh Bruce had ever heard from the Clown. He immediately snapped his attention to the smaller male watching the madman close his eyes with a satisfied smile, lacking the normal cruel edge that accompanied it.

"I love your justification." The Joker admitted with a smirked, chuckling darkly when the vigilante realized what he had said. The Bat stood up abruptly, suddenly realizing just how close the pooling blood had gotten to his suit. He didn't need anymore blood near him tonight. There was a shuffling and Batman looked up watching the Joker painfully pull himself into a sitting position. He really was beat up, Bruce could see fresh blood trailing slowly down his arm. The Clown cracked his neck looking just as tired and the Detective felt.

"It can't be me though, look." The Prince of Anarchy said holding up a hand.

"Twenty newborns says hes missing that love mark you gave me the first time we met. Or the one that night at the bank? You remember Arkham?" The madman pulled down his shirt a little showing off a long white scar across his collar bone. Even his neck was smeared with blood and dirt, his adams apple bobbed under pale skin. How would the Joker know that? That they wouldn't have the same scars. Bruce pulled the dead man's shirt open revealing a pale unblemished collar bone, his eyes snapped back to the living one.

"You know something. Don't you?" Batman narrowed his eyes on man, standing up, watching him for even the slightest tale. The Clown raised his hands up in surrender, a smirk on his face.

"I don't kn – ." The vigilante stalked towards him menacingly and the Joker cut off eyes widening, he raised his hands higher, leaning back a little.

"Alright alright! I love how pushy you are." He purred, smiling up at Batman, a knowing look on his face. He reached a hand out towards the vigilante, who looked at it with disdain.

"Come on. Help a poor crazy out!" The Joker laughed giving his hand a little shake in the air for emphasis. The Bat scowled down at it, crossing his arms defiantly.

"Talk." The Dark Knight growled glaring down at the pouting Clown, who sighed letting his hand fall back to his chest, he licked his lips, meeting the vigilante's blue eyes in resignation.

"Whispers." The Joker coughed sifting his seated position.

"In the Asylum. Someone has the hots for me and you. I don't blame them really. But, now Bruce Wayne. The man sure made a mess of their plans." The Joker muttered amused, and Batman's heart sank. Every time he heard his own name, a chill of worry ran through him, it was easily ten times worse when the Joker said it. The Joker's eyes widened suddenly, easily picking up on Batman's hidden emotions.

"Oh! But don't worry Shnookums, I only have eyes for you." The Joker assured him, finally attempting to get up from his seated position. Batman made no move to stop him, or help him, watching how stiffly the usually graceful male moved. When the madman simply brushed off his wrecked clothing, instead of continuing, the Bat stepped forward gripping the man's hair in his gloved hand, easily a head taller then the other male. The Joker hissed, which turned into a moan. Bruce wanted to let go at the noise, but held fast refusing to back down as Batman. The Clown's hands found their way to his chest curling as much as they could into the Kevlar material, licking his lips.

"And?" The vigilante demanded yanking the man's head back, revealing a long expanse of dirty blood covered skin, the man's adam's apple bobbed again as he swallowed, smiling lecherly up at the Bat.

"What? There isn't much to say! I wasn't in there long." His hands slipped slowly, unnoticeably up the Dark Knight's chest.

"I kept hearing whispers of my demise. Nothing new really, but this time, there was a reward. For my head and for yours. Mine?! I could let slid. People love to kill me! You though. No one touches my Bats!"

"Your sick." Batman scowled pushing the madman away from him, but it didn't work, pale hands suddenly locked around the back of his neck pulling him forward with a hidden strength the skinny male shouldn't possess. The Joker let out a little high pitched giggle, pulling the vigilante in closer. They're eyes only inches apart from each other.

"See. That's what you keep saying." The Clown whispered locking their eyes, the Detective moved his grip to the other male's hands, and the madman's hold tightened desperately, pain shooting through Bruce's already sore muscles as his nails dug in.

"When! Will you realize your just as sick?!" The Joker cried out in frustration, holding the Bat there as long as he could. Batman tore at his hands, peeling them off of his second skin. Nail's dug into the fabric, but didn't do any damage to him. The man let out a frustrated sigh, his shoulders visibly sagging.

"Forget it." The male sneered ripping his hands out of Batman's gloved ones.

"I'm tired of this night. Look B-man. All I know is that this isn't – ." Static came over his head set and Batman held up a hand cutting the Joker off, he obviously wasn't going to tell him much.

"Hold on. Oracle?"

"Hey, um, your not going to believe this." Bruce looked back at the Joker who was sitting there quietly beside him and resisted the urge to snort.

"Try me." He grunted staring at the dead body of the Joker look alike, blood eerily glistening in the moonlight.

"The Joker is breaking into a bank." 

"They're not real."

"What? How do you know?"

"I don't think they're really him, I have the original with me right now." The Joker perked up at that pointing to himself and nodding, like he was finally getting the credit he deserved. Slicking his hair back he blew a kiss to Batman, who scowled in return.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." He replied dryly.

"This one is asking for you too." She stated. Bruce sighed in irritation, his leg was throbbing, his muscles tired, his mind tired, he needed to replenish his blood. He needed to sleep, hell he had needed sleep since finding out he had to even touch that Christmas Bash, let alone plan it.

"Alright, I'll be there." He finally grumbled looking back over at the original Clown, who's eyes were closed in exhaustion, now that he thought Batman wasn't looking. Those green eyes immediately snapped open and sharpened once he realized he was being watched.

"Just give me a few minutes." Bruce added reluctantly, eyeing the Joker wearily, he couldn't just hand him over to the police. They'd lose him in mere hours, the body count would be on his shoulders. Arkham was still a wreck, it would be the same situation if he placed him back there. Sure he could put him back in his cell, but there were still inmates and workers looking to kill him, simply for the reward. The Joker wouldn't be safe there, well if anything he'd get out again simply because they thought they could take him in his cell.

"Bruce, you don't have a few minutes, he has hostages." Batman sighed turning his attention away from the Joker, of course there were.

"I'm on my way." The vigilante finally stated sizing up the madman in front of him. The man raised an eyebrow, licked his lips and started walking towards the exit leisurely. Bruce hung up the line and swiftly closed the distance between them. He didn't have anything on him, but the Bat Mobile did, all he had to do was get the madman down there. He didn't feel like wrestling with him. There was one way the Joker wouldn't complain, well, couldn't complain. Batman broke out into a full fledged run, charging towards the madman. Startled the Clown turned towards the vigilante, barely catching sight of his determined face rushing towards him. He gasped as the Bat slammed into him, barely having time to realize what was happening, going to happen, before his stomach fell out of his insides, the ground below them disappearing. Batman grabbed the madman around the waist, yanking him off his feet, pulling him in close.

"Hold on tight. Don't block my back." Batman yelled and the Joker listened not even a second later, knowing when the vigilante told you to do something he meant it. The Dark Knight continued his sprint to the edge of the building, pushing off of the floor before it fell away. It took the Joker a second to realize they were no longer on the tower. His hands firmly twisted into the back of the Kevlar suit, his arms around the Bat's neck tightly, his legs squeezing his favorite hero's hips in fear, their bodies flush, his face pressed into the nook of the man's neck. One second, that felt like ten, of free fall later and a black cape flared out behind them. The only sound the Joker could hear over the rushing wind in his ears. Batman glided over the pathetic looking police barricades below, they were losing altitude a lot faster then he was used to forcing him to land hard against a roof a few blocks away. Luckily the Bat Mobile was in the ally way on the other side. He landed on his hands and knees, unable to hold back the grunt of pain as his bullet wounded leg took most of the force.

"Don't ever – ." The Joker started, loosening his grip on the vigilante who placed his hand firmly on the male's back, his knuckled scraping the roof beneath them, easily feeling the man's spine beneath his tattered clothing.

"We're not done yet." He grunted out standing up, ignoring the sting in his thigh. The madman's grip tightened again, clinging to the Bat desperately.

"What?!" The Joker cried in confusion his grip tightening farther, almost painfully. Batman stood up with a grunt, walked swiftly towards the other side of the building his arm around the Clown's back, making sure he stayed put. The Joker would be enjoying this if he hadn't of just taken an impromptu dive off the side of a building that was in no way his own idea. At all. Police sirens could be heard just a few blocks away, coming closer. Apparently someone saw them leave, a helicopter could be heard in the distance. The vigilante picked up his pace, running to the other side of the grungy rooftop. He jumped off again releasing his hold on the madman to maneuver his cape. The Joker held on for dear life as they glided the last few stories to the ground, coming to a graceful landing right next to the Bat Mobile. The Joker instantly released his hold on the Dark Knight, stumbling a few steps backwards.

"How about! You WARN a man before doing that? Huh? I could have died!" The Prince of Crime shouted dramatically, looking shaken for the first time ever. The Joker took a second to catch his baring, one hand on the sleek black surface of his car, but Batman wasn't going to have any of that. He stalked forward grabbing the Clown by his tattered shirt. He shoved him up against the car, pressing a button he opened one of the compartments. He wasn't giving the madman time to plan his escape. The Joker choked, clawing at the gloved grip cutting off some of his air.

"Whoa! Casa-nova! How about a drink first?!" The madman aimed a well placed kick at Batman's already injured ribs, the vigilante faltering for a second in his search. Pulling the Clown back he slammed him hard into the metal, the man's head cracking against the vehicle.

"Oh." The Joker groaned his head lolling forward, a sheepish grin lighting his face. Bruce finally found what he was looking for closing the compartment. He giggled letting his head fall back against the Bat Mobile again.

"Bats, bats, everywhere, oh how we wish he would share." The madman sang trailing off into quiet giggles, while Batman stepped back, taking one of the smaller male's arms he slapped a cuff onto him. Then onto his own wrist, tugging the Joker away from the car. The madman stumbled forward, his eyes out of focus and for a second Bruce worried he had given the man a serious concussion. He would have to watch him, of course he was going to be watching him, but that wasn't the point.

"What?" The Joker asked confused holding up his metal enclosed wrist to inspect them.

"What is this? You can't be serious! This wasn't how it was supposed to work, besides you know these wont hold me." The madman trailed off with a tired growl.

"I know, but I will. Which is why I'm on the other side of them." Batman replied tugging the pale wrist back down.

"Hold me please! Keep me locked up? Good luck buddy. You're gunna need it." The Joker smirked his eyes tired. He leaned back against the car resting his head where it had slammed mere seconds ago.

"So whats the plan, bundle of fun? Are we gunna go take down the big bad Clown?" The Prince of Anarchy asked cocking his head to the side with a grin.

"Yes. We are." The vigilante replied popping the hood of the Bat Mobile, watching the Joker almost fall backwards into the cockpit as it opened.

"Again. Warn a man." The Clown growled displeased, righting himself, one hand holding his wounded chest.

"I'll let you know when I find one. Now get in." Batman countered gesturing to the cockpit with a small tilt of his head.

"Ouch. Baby that hurt. Have I been a naughty boy? You wanna punish me now?" The Joker asked sliding closer to the black clad man instead, his free hand running up the solid chest sensually. The Detective snatched that hand away from him, holding it in his gloved grip he leveled the Clown with a dark glare.

"Get in." He demanded with a forceful quiet that the madman just loved to hear. The Joker chuckled amusedly, tingles running through his body at the tone the Bat took.

"Oh, how I've missed you." He exhaled leaning forward, rolling onto the balls of his feet for added height, he pressed his lips against the thin irritated ones. Batman refused to step back, but couldn't release the man's wrist fast enough to stop him. Warm lips met his for a brief moment, the Joker mesmerizing ever sensation, texture and plain, before the Bat pushed him harshly away. The Clown fall back into the side of the Bat Mobile, barely catching himself. Batman gave him another hard shove, watching him trip over the side falling into the cockpit painfully, his arm wrenching awkwardly when Bruce barely gave him any leeway. The Bat wiped at his lips with the back of his suit, taking the last step forward to lean menacingly over the side of the car, glaring down in disgusted at the Clown.

"Don't. Ever. Do that again." Batman growled and the Joker laughed dryly.

"Why? Because you liked it?" The madman giggled, abruptly yanking hard on their chained wrists pulling the caped crusader farther into the car. The vigilante's gloved hand slammed against the side, keeping himself from falling in, maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. The sirens from earlier were closer, they were obviously searching the streets for them.

"No. Because I'll beat you and leave you in an ally way." Batman grunted yanking back on the chain, pulling the Joker back into a sitting position harshly, the man hissing in pain as his chest was jostled.

"Well that's nothing new." The smaller male shot back pulling back on the cuffs, Bruce expected it this time, his hand barely moving.

"Move. Over." The vigilante growled out, the sirens getting closer. The Joker leaned forward with a twisted smile.

"Make me." The Clown challenged quietly, Batman scowled not even taking time to think about how to do that, he socked the man hard in his smug little face, watching him fall sideways against the dashboard. Bruce climbed into the cockpit, grabbing him by the bony shoulders he twisted him around, shoving his feet to the floor boards. He was in the drivers seat, the Joker squished up against the side door before the man had stopped seeing stars. It was only after the caped crusader pressed the button for the roof to close that he remembered he was supposed to be worried about the Joker having a concussion. One look at the man beside him, pale hand holding his jaw, his entire body covered in blood, most of it more then likely not even his own. Hair windswept, plastered to his sweaty dirt covered forehead. The Joker chuckled working his jaw open and closed a few times, before turning his attention to the man beside him.

"Well. That's one way to do it." Batman scowled and peeled out of the ally way just missing the police cars that turned into the street they had just left. Laughter filled the car for a few seconds, then an irritated groan of pain, that died out into silence, the man gripping his bleeding chest, but he wouldn't let Batman know that.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

When Joker isn't in the scene. Its hard to write. LOL. If that even makes sense. I suppose he normally dominates the scenes in any given case anywhere, and hes a fun character to write. They are indeed much fast to write. So needless to say this one took awhile. Simply because he wasn't really in it until later. Lol. Its pretty long. So enjoy. The next one might not be as long. Then again it might... I have no idea.

Anyways! Read, review, kudo, comment, favorite idk do shit. Love is makes me edit these things so they're legible.


	5. Chapter 5 - Deranged Train

Someone brought up a good question. Which Joker am I basing this one off of. Answer would be all of them. I love the concept of the Joker but all of them seem to have things I either like or dislike. The back-stories, looks, jokes, personality, voice, desires ect. So basically this is a compilation of Joker parts from multiple medias. I would say he looks more like Heath Ledger without make up, except paler, while in make up he looks more traditional. His makeup isn't a mess like Heath Ledgers make-up, but its not as defined as his original looks because he does indeed have the scars. While dressed up he has slicked back hair, but while not he has the curly short hair Ledger had. He does have almost inhumanly pale skin, and his eyes are brighter then the average green you can find in actual human beings. This goes with the back-story I am going with, which if you haven't noticed isn't consistent with any singular comic universe. Its more of just the pieces that I feel portrays my Joker correctly. I would have to say the Arkham version of the Joker is the closest to personality I've seen or heard, love Troy Baker's voice.

I feel like the range in between incarnations can be rather ridiculous. Just as Batman's portrayals aren't all the same, you can have anything from self-righteous sarcastic good humored vigilante to a dark paranoid, multiple personality, stoic anti-social anti-hero. Obviously mine is not the one with personality disorders. Lol. However with the Joker you can have anything from completely nutters, no direction, bland sense of humor, with horrible puns. (Some of those comics lol) To someone with an actual grand end game, even though the end game makes less sense to normal human beings, he still has a direction, an intelligence and a sarcastic morbid sense of humor. He can also go from completely insane 24/7 to having an actual sense of sanity in his own twisted way. You can obviously tell which way I went with that one. Cough.

BUT! I have to say I hated, okay hate is a strong word, disliked, Heath Ledger's delivery of his lines. So I would prefer, you read his lines with the Arkham line voice. Don't get me wrong Heath did an amazing job for his brand of the Joker. He was creepy and chaotic just like the doctor ordered, but I felt he was missing the refined grace, I feel, the Joker possesses. Too many twitches. While the Joker DOES have twitches, not that often. Lol

ANYWHO! Enjoy the update! Don't flame me for not liking a dead man. 10 things I hate about you is my favorite chick flick.

Get excited Fallon.

XxxxxxxxxxxX

Shattered Identities

Chapter 5

Deranged Train

XxxxxxxxxxxX

If Bruce thought the car ride, all the way from the rundown church. Which was uptown. To the high class bank, which was down town. Was going to be a quiet one... he would be wrong, because it seemed the Joker didn't know how to shut up, regardless of how many times his head had been slammed into unyielding objects that night.

They had barely made it two minutes into the drive before the madman had broken the uneasy quiet. Those few minutes he had been spent in silence inspecting Batman intensely in the passing lights. Taking in every possible detail of the man beside him. Every trace of visible skin, the line of his lips, the angle of his jaw. The press of the cowl against his flesh, the dark charcoal makeup smudged on his eyelids. The grip of his gloved hands on the steering wheel, the taunt biceps straining against his black suit. How his stormy blue eyes narrowed and jaw muscles clenched under the madman's scrutiny. Every detail, taken in intently by bright green eyes.

Bruce wanted to feel nervous, but he didn't have that luxury right now. Batman didn't get nervous, Batman had nothing to be nervous about, because Batman wasn't a person. So there was nothing for the Joker to find... if only he really believed that, if only he really were one person. Wasn't it just a few hours ago he felt Bruce couldn't handle Arkham, yet Batman could? Wasn't he Batman and Bruce? Was Batman really just a suit? He resisted the urge to shake his head, no, Batman was an idea. Justice. Yet under Joker's eyes he felt less like Batman then usual. If he had to choose one villain out of them all to never discover his true identity it would be the madman. It seemed fate had a twisted sense of humor.

Finally the Joker cocked his head, lips pursed, eyes squinting at the man as if he were a puzzle that couldn't be left unsolved. His hand, which had been tapping some unknown tune against the door of the car lifted from its position, gesturing one pale finger towards the raw scabs trailing down his cheek. His body was curled between the seat and the door, angled towards his captor, one leg bent, his foot resting on Batman's expensive seats. The scratches were a reminder of the nights events, and how the Joker's brand of insanity was unique to the rest of the high security inmates held in Arkham.

"Now those." The Joker broke into a tight smile, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip, he scrunched his nose in distaste.

"Those, look painful." He chuckled finally breaking his unblinking stare, shifting to sit properly in his seat, he pressed his head back against the headrest. He threw his free hand up and over the top of the chair, letting it rest limply on the edge. He snuggled into the seat, maneuvering his dirt covered standard issue shoes onto the dashboard, the toes tapping together, the only outlet for the Joker's own song of madness, the finger's handing into the back twitching slightly. Batman watched the man's movements meticulously from the corner of his eye, his hands tense ready to shove the madman away from any buttons he didn't need to be near. The Clown moved his cuffed hand from its position resting against the center console, the short chain between them tinkling with the movement. The Joker's tongue flicked up cleaning his front teeth with an audible sounds, obviously used to garner the Dark Knights attention. A scowl tugged at his scared lips before he opened his mouth again.

"Lovers quarrel, perhaps?" The Joker asked inspecting his bloodied fingernails with distaste. Nailing something out from under his index finger he flicked it to the floor. Bruce's eyes narrowed farther, debating whether just knocking the man out was a better solution for the night, he didn't want to know whose DNA the madman just left on his floor. The Clown's eyes snapped to Batman when no snarky reply came his way. His hair scrubbed against the seat as he turned his head towards the vigilante, taking in Batman's tense form with narrowed eyes.

"Dear little Cat Woman? Hm?" A little in take of breath, "Sleeping with your little Robin?" The Joker suggested leaning forward in his seat, his feet falling back to the floor, his eyes widening at the prospect.

"Is she jealous? I'd be jealous. Hell!" The exclaimed before his voice grew dark, his head tilting fowrad. "I was jealous."

"But!" His head snapped back up, his face bright with amusement.

"Wouldn't that be the puuuuurrr-fect lovers triangle? Or would it be a square?" The Joker giggled drawing a square in the air, watching Batman with sharp eyes, waiting for any possible twitch the man would make against his accusations.

Except he didn't. The vigilante kept his eyes on the streets, ignoring the man completely, despite how much the madman's words made the Batman's blood boil. The Clown glared, his lips tightening, his teeth grinding together briefly before suddenly the look was gone. The Joker broke his fixed gaze, taking a deep breath through his nose, he leaned towards the Bat. Placing his elbow on the center console between them, avoiding a few flashing buttons out of self preservation, he crossed his legs at the knee. Batman's gloved hand slid down to the stick shift near the Joker's new position, making sure the madman didn't send them through a building, the cuffs chain clinking between them as he moved. The Joker rested his chin on his pale fingers, smirking at the stoic man beside him.

"Aw, whats wrong Bats... Cat got your tongue?" The Joker whispered with a chuckle, again he got no answer and the madman growled in frustration throwing his head back against the padded seat with an exaggerated sigh, he took a deep breath tossing his head back, his face towards the ceiling.

"Baaaaaaaaaats!" The Prince of Anarchy whined pitifully, Bruce gritted his teeth against the irritating sound, his hand tightening on the steering wheel, the high pitched noise grating on his patience. With a frustrated huff the Clown flung himself sideways, getting into Batman's personal space, his face inches from the cowl.

"Yooouu Whooo! Bats!" The Joker yelled painfully into the vigilante's ear, Batman's upper lip twitched, obviously fighting the scowl that tried to work its way onto his features, his resolve wearing thin.

"I'm right here, Super Star! You know. I don't ask for much, just a little attention for a poor old clown." The madman complained with a huff of disappointment. The male backed away a little, scowling at him. After a second of heated glaring his free hand shot out, reaching for the vigilante. The Dark Knight's cuffed hand instantly snapped up from its position on the stick shift, seizing the offending appendage mid air inches from his suit, the movement yanking the Joker's cuffed hand with him. Batman's grip tightened painfully on the Prince of Crime's wrist, a scowl finally creeping onto the vigilante's lips.

"Shut. Up." The Caped Crusader growled refusing to give the madman his full attention, his eyes still dutifully glued to the road. Said prisoner pouted at his words his hand opening and closing in need, still reaching for him. He threw the Joker's hand back towards the man, hoping it would hit the Clown in his obnoxious face. It didn't. The madman's eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, with tight pursed lips as he cradled the hand, like it had been deemed unworthy, when in the end he was the only thing that was, but no one seemed to understand that. Determination flashed in his brilliant orbs, his chained hand, the left, glided up to hold the back of Batman's seat near his broad shoulders. The vigilante's gloved hand forced to follow the Joker's own the chain pulling taunt between them.

"Awww come on hero!" The madman leaned forward again, towering a little above the Dark Knight, his head and shoulders pressing against the ceiling. Batman's eyes narrowed and he tore his cuffed hand back down, ripping the Joker's hand from its place on his headrest. The Clown almost fell from the sudden shift in his weight his other hand slapping against the front console to stabilize himself, pressing a few buttons in the process. The window wipers came on, and a cloud of smoke emitted around the car, which quickly dissipated, left behind in their speed across town. Batman barely shifted his head towards the madman his eyes leveling him with a glare.

"Oops, look what you made me do!" The Joker removed his hands quickly sitting back into his seat. Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes, turning back to the road.

"Come on! I'm just curious! Indulge me a little. Or a lot." The madman added flirtatiously raising his eye brows. Batman gritted his teeth clicking the windshield wipers off. Narrowing his eyes he finally looked over meeting the dancing green ones staring back at him in transfixed amusement, obsession. Bruce hated to admit it, but that look sent shivers of concern, shock, something, down his spine. It wasn't human to be so throughly consumed by one person. So enthralled. The playboy had admirers of course, some of them border-lining stalkers, while others were way over that line. Yet none of them had ever held that look, that obsession. The Detective turned back to the road not a second later, refusing to give the crime lord any more of his attention, refusing to read any more from those insanity rimmed eyes.

"I'm not going to dignify your deranged questions with an answer." Batman finally grunted out through gritted teeth. The Joker gasped loudly in mock pain, jerking back as if he had been slapped, his free hand held against his chest dramatically, the other slapping against his seat, tugging batman's wrist with him.

"Ouch. Batsy! That hurts!" The madman exhaled faintly, clenching his fist around his tattered clothes, a look of deep seeded pain twisting his features. Batman shook his head, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"No it doesn't." Batman stated dryly, his eyes still glued to the road, watching as the buildings slowly became less decrepit and decayed. He paused, letting the madman cock a curious eyebrow at his comment. The Joker opened his mouth, ready to reply when the vigilante cut him off.

"You know what does hurt?" The Dark Knight asked slowly giving the maniac a second to process his question, trying to keep the smirk from his lips. The Joker frowned briefly, opening his mouth to reply, but it seemed Batman had a different plan. He took a sharp turn hard, refusing to slow down, the Bat Mobile slid dangerously across the asphalt, gravity jerking them towards the Joker's side of the car. The madman slammed into the window painfully, his backside cracking against the bullet proof glass, the side of the door jamming into his back muscles, the top of his head hitting the moldings. The vigilante straightened the car back out just as swiftly and the Clown was hurled forward. His hands slamming against the dashboard and center console in an attempt to stop himself from falling head first into Batman. Bruce finally let the smirk slip onto his angular lips. The Prince of Crime gritted his teeth in pain, slowly tilting his head up to glare at the vigilante through matted curly green strands. Batman turned his head towards the Clown giving him a once over, an almost invisible smirk on his lips. Taking in his white knuckled grip against the car. His deep scowl and hate filled glare with intelligent absinthe green eyes. The faded hair that fell into his sickly pale face. A face that looked more gaunt then it usually did, lips less crimson, more natural, if a little too pale. Not that Bruce knew too much about how the man looked without the makeup, but no one's lips should be that light in color. Not that any of that detracted from the Detectives current amusement. There was silence in the car, and the vigilante tilted his head at the maniac, a smirk finally breaking across his face.

"Not wearing your seatbelt." Batman informed him, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. The Joker's scowl slowly fell from his own face, followed by confusion which quickly morphed into wide eyes that stared at the Bat in near shock. Slowly those lips parted, the scared edges tugging up until a smile was revealed. Then a chuckled left the madman, slowly gaining momentum, and the Joker was laughing hysterically. Clutching his sides, he coughed through the laughter, falling back into his seat. The laughter sounded painful, and the Caped Crusader resisted shaking his head in belief at the gargled giggles. How the Joker managed to keep it up for another thirty seconds was beyond him. The sound echoing through the car, both unhealthy gasps of breath and maniacal laughter.

"You're going to hurt yourself." The vigilante muttered while the Joker wheezed in his seat, fighting painfully for enough breath to start up again. Eventually it seemed he gave up, choosing instead to reply.

"What? Hurt myself? Now why would I do that, when I've got you here to do it for me?!" The Joker gritted out, his voice horse from the coughing, his grin more of a grimace when he smiled. He took in a sudden sharp breath, his hand pressed against his chest, his face paler then before, breathing shallow. Bruce wanted to groan in irritation. Watching the Joker was like babysitting a homicidal, self destructive three year old with his own level of stubbornness. By the time the night was over Batman probably wouldn't even need to watch the madman, he'd of landed himself in the hospital by then, simply because he couldn't stop laughing.

"Not that I'm complaining." The Joker finally exhaled, before a small cough took him over.

"You can lay your hands on me whenever you'd like sweet cheeks." The Joker added on with a sultry look, still looking pathetic in the after math of his laughing fit.

"You're going to tear your stitches." Batman stated slowing down as they finally neared their destination, well close to it. He could see the flashing lights from the police barricade farther down the road. He needed to find a side alley to park in so they could make their way to the scene. Or he could. He wasn't quite sure he wanted to take the maniac in with him, but he had no way to safely knock the male out without the chance of him getting back up while he was gone. Sure he could smash the Clown's head against something hard, not that it had seemed to be doing much so far, but it never lasted long and the man was right. Those cuffs wouldn't hold him. Not even for a full five seconds. Hell Bruce wasn't even sure why he was still cuffed now. None of his tranquilizers would last the allotted time, the Joker had easily built up a tolerance to them in Arkham. Again, this seemed like the only option.

"Aww you care!" The Joker exclaimed running a hand through his messy locks, finally straightening up, sweeping them out of his face.

"Don't worry bright eyes, I'm a tougher cookie then that." The madman informed Batman, biting his bottom lip seductively, not that the vigilante was paying much attention. They had finally made it to an off alley. The police lights barely visible, even though they were only two blocks over. Normally it would be a cake walk to get into the bank. He could glide in, zip line, grapple swing, hell he could walk in, the police would probably not pay him much mind if he slipped by silently. Silently wasn't possible while he was attached to the Joker. He could glide in but he was pretty sure the Joker wasn't going to appreciate that. Grappling could work, but they'd have to get close. Zip lining would be loud, especially with the glass windows, the place didn't have balconies. The easiest and quietest entrance would be through the roof. Speaking of the roof, or any other part of the building. Bruce lifted his wrist opening up a panel he downloaded the schematics from his database of the banks layout. Which just so happened to be out of date, they had remodeled earlier that year. Fantastic.

"Oracle." Batman grunted, turning his headset on with his free hand, ignoring the irritated sound the Joker threw at him for being ignored yet again.

"Batman. Good to hear from you. What do you need? Are you there yet?" Oracle rambled off, the soft clicking of keys could be heard in the background.

"I'm nearby. I need the new blueprints for the remodeled floors." The Joker sighed, shifting in his seat again, throwing his feet onto the dashboard, his fingers tapping erratically against the window in boredom.

"I'm on it." Barbra informed him, the line falling dead.

"Calling your girlfriend? I'd love to meet her. Oh! We could have a sleep over! Do each others make-up! I know a thing or two about make-up. She'd be sleeping the most though. Probably wouldn't wake up, if you, uh. You get it. You always get it." The Joker chuckled darkly, his fingers tapping out an unknown tune onto the glass. Batman ignored him, one thing the Joker loved was people rising to his baits. Sadistic bastard.

"We'll have to go in from the roof." The vigilante informed him, unlocking the Bat Mobile, the roof sliding backwards to unleash them on the world.

"Ooooh?! I still get to come along?!" The Joker squealed excitedly, clapping his hands, he leaned in a little to close for Bruce's comfort.

"How exciting, you my friend are a saint!" The crime lord threw his arms out almost as if he expected Batman to return a hug. There was a pause, the madman licked his lips looking down sucking air in through gritted teeth.

"Buuuuut uh, I didn't purchase frequent flier miles. Don't get me wrong! I love! Oh do I love. Your body pressed against, mine." The Joker exhaled longing in his voice, then his hands came up flexing in the air as if he were grasping for something.

"It's the lack of holding places that bugs me, I mean really?! How the hell do you expect me to keep my paws off that, fabulous, back of yours? Have you, seen, those muscles?!" The madman exclaimed his cuffed hand shooting out faster then Batman could stop it, the vigilante's own hand jerking painfully after it. The maniac's finger's caressed the back of his neck, trailing to his shoulder affectionately. Bruce could barely feel the touch through his Kevlar, but it still gave him the creeps.

"Felt them?" The Joker added after a pause, taking in the feel of Batman's Kevlar encased back.

"I have. And gorgeous. Its not something you don't touch." The Joker leaned in close his voice whispering into Batman's cowl, "Its just not." The Clown whispered and the Caped Crusader's free hand jerked up, his gloved fingers pressing into the man's face, he pushed him roughly out of his personal bubble.

"Then you'll have to contain yourself because that, is what is going to happen." Bruce growled, the madman fell back into his seat with a grunt, slapping Batman's hand away from his face with a scowl.

"Is it now?" The Clown hissed through gritted teeth.

"What do I look like, one of your pigeons? How about we take the not so scenic route? Hm? That sounds like a fantastic idea! Yeah, lets do that." The Joker nodded vigorously shifting in his seat he placed one hand on the side of the door, getting ready to vault out of the car.

"What are you talking about?" Batman asked eyeing the madman wearily, not really sure he even wanted to hear it.

"The sewers, Cream Puff!" The Joker stated like it was obvious, making his move to exit the car, their minds made up, tugging Batman's cuffed hand with him. The Dark Knight narrowed his eyes, a frown pulling at his lips, he yanked the clown back into the car using their joined hands. Said maniac slipped backwards into the seat with a pained grunt, one hand gripping the side of the car keeping his head from from meeting painfully with the center console, his other hand hanging limply in the cuff just in front of Batman. The Clown scowled, a groan of pain passing his lips.

"Bats." The Joker growled darkly, he released his hold on the door, falling the rest of the way into the seat. Swiftly he let his knees fall to his chest, and suddenly Bruce had a jaw full of shoe rubber, his head snapping to the side, his bruised ribs slamming into the door. His ear stung, his teeth throbbing he slowly moved his free hand up to touch the side of his jaw tenderly, the taste of blood pooling in his mouth. He jerked his head towards the Joker's grinning face, the maniac's body still contorted, folded in at the waist, his legs held in the air by his head. Batman snarled viciously, snatching one of the madman's ankle before he could pull them away to safety. The Clown's grin immediately fell off his face as he tugged uselessly at the vigilante's grip, unable to do much from his knotted position.

"The sewers aren't connected to the bank, not in anyway we can get in." Batman ground out, tightening his grip on the man's ankle, he tugged him towards his side, pulling the creep farther into his folded position. The madman hissed in pain, sliding a little on the seat, his hands gripping the interior in attempt to stop himself from crushing his injured lungs further.

"That you know of." The Joker bitched, his breathing labored, his own weight constricting his ribcage. The Dark Knight threw the man's foot back to him with an irritated growl. The Joker immediately uncurled himself, taking in a deep breath as the pressure was released. He scrambled, undignified, into a sitting position, brushing off his torn and bloody clothing like it was a Prada exclusive. Blue eyes glowered at the pale man before tearing them away, he grimaced working his jaw. He leaned over the edge of the Bat Mobile, and spat the mouth full of blood onto the asphalt. Swallowing in disgust, he slowly turned back around, fixing the Joker with a predatory glare. He suddenly lunged out of his seat, one cuffed glove encased hand slapping against the Joker's head rest, his unshackled one cocked into a fist, ready to punch the man in his grinning face, his cape flared out behind him. Then his communications snapped on freezing him in place, the cape fluttering to a rest, his hand still poised for the punch. The madman's own free hand had shot out in front of his face, his cuffed one being held back by the cuffs, not much defense against the Dark Knights retaliation. Playful giggles passed his scared smiling lips as the Caped Crusader bore down on him.

"Batman." Oracle broke through the com, stopping him from slamming his fist into that smiling face. She didn't need to hear that. "I can't get anything, apparently the new blueprints were never uploaded digitally, its all paper." Batman flexed his fist, scowling down at the grinning lunatic.

"Guess we're going in blind." The Detective replied to her, holding back a sigh of frustration, he let his fist fall, no longer in the mood to pound the man's face in, yet.

"Yeah, wait. We?" Barbra asked skeptically and Bruce reached his hand up.

"I'll call you later." He stated shutting the line down, watching the maniac's earlier amusement die out.

"I am. Not!" The Joker exclaimed jerking his cuffed hand to his chest childishly, yanking Batman's with it. The vigilante's hand was wrenched from its position on the side of the chair, the hand that held most of his weight. Gravity tore him downwards, his previously clenched gloved hand shooting out to slam against the side of the car. His face inches from the Joker's own smirking one. The Dark Knight growled in irritation, his grip tightening against the steel, while the Joker chuckled.

" – Crashing in through the ceiling like Zoro." The madman whispered leaning upwards, shortening the small distance they already had between them. His hot breath caressing Bruce's tense jaw.

"Not unless you want to get us both killed." His eyes shifted down to Batman's sharp lips, and he licked his own scared ones. The Caped Crusader's muscles tensed as he pushed a few inches, increasing the distance between them, his stomach muscles taunt, keeping his body from falling on top of the Joker's.

"We wouldn't die." Batman whispered back with a deep gutteral tone, the glare never leaving his face.

"Says you, soldier boy. I on the other hand happen to be flesh and bone." The Joker reached down pulling up his shirt, exposing the flesh of his stomach. Batman pushed himself back farther, unable to stop himself from glancing down, taking in the train wreck on the man's skin. Bruises littered his torso like a disease, spreading from one side to the other, up his lithe abs, dotted with scrapes and scratches. The right side of his chest was bandaged blood soaking through the white material, the left still had his tattered shirt covering it, a nipple barely peaking out. Bruce's eyes snapped back to the madman's.

"I'm sure you've noticed." The Joker smirked as Batman stared down at him in stunned silence, those bruises would hurt like hell.

"Besides if this guy is even half as smart as most people he'll have the entire upper floors booby trapped. Its what I'd do." The Joker informed him slyly, jerking his shirt back down, Bruce swallowed taking a deep breath, tearing his eyes away from the madman's vivid green ones.

"He's not you." Batman replied vaguely, unable to shake the sight of the man's abused skin from his mind.

"No, he's not." The Joker answered, his free hand leaving the hem of his shirt to press sensually against the Vigilante's hard abs.

"And you keep that in mind." The Clown suggested his hand trailing up along his abs, and over a chiseled peck. Batman's cuffed hand snapped up, snatching the Joker's free hand away from his body.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The Dark Knight growled, lowering himself a few inches, trapping the other man's hand against the back of the seat, his cuffed one stuck in the same vacinity.

"That he could have no, qualms, about killing your pretty little, self." The Joker chuckled his hand flexing against the seat, Bruce could feel the tendons shift beneath his fingers. Batman's eyes narrowed in thought, unsure of the madman's suggestion. The last one hadn't seemed too gun-hoe about killing him.

"If he's a clone – ." Batman started, but a hand closed around his neck, jerking his own away from the seat. The Joker's face suddenly inches away from his own, an angry snarl on his lips.

"You think they can clone me?!" The Joker hissed his grip tightening. His cuffed hand encassing as much of the vigilante's neck as it could. Batman still held the madman's free hand in his own cuffed one, their wrists getting tangled.

"My brilliance?! You think that is just, What? Bought in a doctors office?" The madman spit at him, anger clear in his absinthe colored eyes that bore into Batman's own, his grip becoming painful even for his Kevlar suit. Bruce released the Joker's hand to grab the other one, attempting to pull it away from his windpipe, he wouldn't do any real damage. Not like he had done at Arkham yesterday.

"I have books, upon books, of speculations! About me Bats! And none of them, even come. Close. To who." The Joker laughed sardonically, "To what, I am." The Dark Knight tore the madman's pale hand from his throat, a matching scowl on his own lips.

"Hell I don't even know! So how the fuck would they?!" The Joker ripped his hand out of the vigilante's grip. He raised those, palm up by his head in a gesture of surrender.

"All I know, is that I keep you around, for fun." The man whispered, his free hand moving up to caress Batman's masculine jawline, a small chuckle leaving his lips. The Dark Knight jerked away from him, straightening up and out of this reach entirely, one knee on the center console, the other leg still in the divers seat, his boot on the floor board.

"Of course. Who the hell would think your fun?! I mean look at you! Dower and dull." The Joker complained gesturing to the perfect male specimen towering above him. Batman glared down at him, his lips tight, while the Joker stared back, a loose smile on his own.

"Fine, say your right." Batman indulged him, his hand coming back up to lean against the Joker's head rest, but still not anywhere close to his personal space.

"I'm right." The Joker insisted with a frown and a cocked eyebrow.

"They remodeled several months ago, what if they blocked your entrance?" The vigilante countered darkly, looking down on the Clown.

"Oh. They didn't." The Joker insisted rolling his eyes, when Batman didn't look impressed he elaborated.

"Come on! Its how they smuggle the French mobs money in and out of the city." The madman, gestured back and forth sitting up, with a superior smirk on his face.

"The what?" Batman asked his eyes narrowing, he'd never heard of such a thing.

"Exactly." The Joker sang with a giggle.

"I've never heard – ."

"Thats the point." The Clown whined, tossing his head back in exasperation.

"There aren't many things I don't know about." Batman growled his grip tightening on the seat again.

"You're rather near sighted peanut, there's plenty you don't know. You care about this city." The Joker stated, the soul piercing stare leveled on the vigilante.

"Not much else. Wonder how your bat boys handle that." The Joker replied smuggly, his hand reaching out yet again to touch the Bat. The Dark Knight's hand stopping him for a third time with an irritated grunt.

"Stop. Touching. Me. And no. I wont let you run me around in circles, if those people die, it wont be on me." Batman growled out, leaning back he turned around leaping gracefully out of the Bat Mobile, his right hand tugging painfully behind him when the Joker didn't follow fast enough. The maniac glowered at him, then narrowed on the cuffs, debating.

"Get out." The vigilante grunted giving the man's wrist a tug with his own. The Joker tossed his head backward in exasperation.

"Come on! First you want me in, now you want me out! Make up your mind! I'm beginning to wonder which one of us is more of a woman." The madman giggled slinking his way out of the Bat Mobile, to land in front of the Vigilante just as gracefully.

"We're going my way. From the roof top." The Dark Knight grunted at him, daring the man to challenge it. The Joker hissed in some air through his teeth, tensing his shoulders he rocked onto the tips of his toes then back a few times. Groaning the madman looked down at the ground, looking back at him up at him with a sweet smile which quickly turned into a smirk.

"Good luck getting me up there Sugar." The Joker exhaled, then slumped to the ground bonelessly, making himself comfortable on the grungy asphalt near Batman's boots. Slightly surprised the vigilante simply stared down at him for a few seconds, while the madman just smiled pleasantly back, one arm suspended limply in the air by the cuffs. The Caped Crusader nodded his head dryly, his lips tightening. He shuffled his boots, closing the short distance between them and the Joker's body, the tips of his toes knocking against the man's side none too gently. Batman hovered over him, his shadow cast over the man. A smirk graced his angular lips as the vigilante bent down, grasping the thin man under his arms.

"Good thing you're light." He smirked easily hauling the Joker off the black pavement. The Clown let out an indignant yelp as he was thrown effortlessly into the air and over the Dark Knight's shoulder. A gust of air left the madman's lips as his bruised stomach met the Kevlar hardened shoulder. Bruce almost wanted to feel sorry, but there was no sympathy for the devil.

"Hey! What the Hell! Let me down you giant oaf! I'm not going, damn it!" The Joker exclaimed his feet kicking violently forcing Batman to tilt his head away from the man's squirming legs.

"You should eat something." The vigilante replied closing the subject of the crime lord having a choice in the matter, he hefted him into the air again fixing his grip. The Joker growled his hands fisting into his black cape.

"How about you?!" The madman growled his teeth digging into Batman's Kevlar suit, doing nothing but hurting the Clown in the process, he gnawed away at pieces of his muscled back regardless. Batman felt slightly sorry for his cape, but it had seen worse.

"Don't hurt yourself." Batman suggested with a smirk carrying the Joker down the grungy side alley and around a corner, looking for a fire escape, anything he could get the Clown to the roof with, with out losing him with all his thrashing. There didn't seem to be any however and Bruce didn't want to waste time looking at another building. Unbuckling his grappling hook he ignored the Joker's howled protests, and flailing limbs, shooting it onto the roof top.

"Batsy! Babe! Seriously! Lets talk about this! It's really not that – ." Batman pressed the button and they zipped up the side of the building, barely half a second later the Joker's stomach was in his throat. There was a loud zing, a snap, and the line went slack. The world slowed down the ground moved towards them, Joker face first for the show. They passed one set of windows, and the vigilante's grip on the madman loosened throwing him back into the air. The Joker stared in horror as he pulled the Bat's cape with him, his hands still fisted in its fabric, their bodies parted, air rushing between them, fear gripped the madman. Not fear of dying, fear that Batman would actually let him, that he wasn't worth saving. Then he felt a tug on his clothes, hands tightened on his back, the ground so close, he was pulled back in, their bodies finally touching. Strong arms tightened around him, holding him flush against a well toned build. They hit the ground hard, the air rushing painfully out of both their lungs from the impact. Batman's head was curled up near his own, avoiding a collision with the pavement, his back taking all of the blow, the Joker safely clutched to his chest. Hot breath rushed across the Joker's neck, the he was unceremoniously thrown off of the vigilante, who rolled over onto his side, coughing painfully, one hand clutching his stomach. The Joker could feel more scratches on his arm from the meeting with the pavement, the Bat could have been gentler. His own hand came up to press against his wounded chest, his other hand straining harshly against the cuff, bruising his wrist.

"I told you. It was a dumb idea." The Joker wheezed, his breathing painful, he could feel his bandage saturating in blood. Groaning the Clown collapsed back against the ground, staring at the smoggy light polluted sky. Batman got to his hands and knees, painfully making his way onto his feet. The vigilante stood for a second, trying to push down the pain coursing through his back. There were going to be some ugly bruising tomorrow, much like the Joker's stomach actually. Finally Batman moved, walking a few feet away from the building, tugging Joker's hand with him, the man sliding across the pavement with each step, his tattered shirt doing little to save him from the rough surface. The Caped Crusader picked up his grappling gun, inspecting it. The end was severed completely, which wasn't possible with normal bullets, he designed these to never fail.

"Roof top snipers?" The Dark Knight muttered staring around at the top of the neighboring buildings. Obviously they were covered on the street, it was only when they cleared the shorter building towards the bank that they were shot at.

"Wow! Why didn't I ever think of that?!" The Joker exclaimed sarcastically, one hand holding his tender chest. He pushed himself a little off the ground, leaning on one forearm, leveling Batman with a dry stare.

"They must have armor piercing rounds." The Detective stated staring at his broken gadget.

"Cheats." The Joker muttered, flopping back to the ground.

"You know. I'd like to stay in the car. I'm not dying, for your self-righteous, incentives." The Joker complained with a hiss, glowering around the dirty, yet garbage free street, it was obvious they were downtown.

"Oh look, the entrance to the sewers! How convenient is that?! To bad, someone! Is a stubborn little bitch and couldn't have just taken. My fucking advice!" The madman continued with his sarcasm, throwing a tantrum like a child, gesturing angrily towards a circular metal lid in the middle of the street. Batman looked towards the rooftops again, his lips tight in anger. It looked like he didn't have a choice. He couldn't leave the Joker here, so he couldn't take out all of the snipers, or even stealthily make a path to the bank.

"Calm down." Batman suggested staring at the sewer entrance, debating any other option then trusting the word of a madman, what was it that the Joker always said? Did I ever lie to you? Technically he never had, that didn't mean he doesn't tell half truths.

"Don't. Tell me. To calm down! I'm the one with a shot wound here! This isn't like Arkham City! I can drown in my own blood, well, actually. I could have there too, to be honest." The Joker chuckled with a morbid smile. The Dark Knight turned his gaze down to the madman, taking a deep breath.

"If this is a trap or something, I will kill you." Batman threatened, and the Joker laughed up at him, taking a sharp breath he cut off, swallowing hard. 

"Sure you will Heart Throb, and I will drop my jokes and become an upstanding citizen of Gotham." It was obvious the Joker wanted to cackle with joy at his own jest, but couldn't thanks to his injury. Bruce tugged at their cuffed hands, getting the madman's attention.

"Lets go." Batman grunted already taking a few steps towards the sewers before the Joker could get to his feet. Sighing dramatically the Clown followed after his favorite hero. They stopped near the lid and the Bat stooped down yanking it from its rusted place, holding back a grunt of pain as it strained his bruised back. The metal screeched along the ground as he tossed it aside.

"Hubba hubba." The Joker muttered wagging his eyebrows. Batman's eyes snapped up to him, a glare firmly in place as he straightened up. The madman stood on the other side of the open hole, staring down into the darkness.

"Well, ladies first." The Prince of Crime snickered, gesturing for Batman to take the lead.

"You're right." The vigilante stated tugging hard on their joined wrists, the Joker took a step forward to stop himself, realized there was nothing to step on and lost his balance slipping into the opening. Batman stepped forward as well, wrapping a hand around the man's back, pulling him close they fell into the darkness. His boots splashed into the rancid water, the chill creeping through his suit, the Joker groaning in disgust against him. The Caped Crusader released his hold on the man pulling out a flash light, he clicked it on.

"Ack. This was a terrible idea, who's idea was this? They're barmy." The Joker complained jokingly, and Bruce accidentally let a small chuckle escape. The madman's head snapping up to stare in wonder at the cowled man. Then the pale male flashed the Dark Knight a dazzling smile. Bruce took a step back, swiftly tearing his eyes away from the man. He had a job to do, ignoring how, strange, normal, that smile had been on the man's face.

"It should be to the left." Batman said waiting for the Joker's confirmation. The madman remained quiet for a moment, a dour mood settling over them.

"Yeah," The man answered with a sour whisper, "It should be." Then the Joker trudged ahead of him, his shoulders slumped, one hand on his chest, the other trailing behind him linked to the vigilante's own. Batman watched him for a few seconds, slugging through the water, for once completely silent. Watched the murky soak into his already dirty clothes. Bruce was suddenly glad he sprayed his wounds with a liquid repelling bandage. This place smelled disgusting, why was this night so irritatingly long?

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This Chapter is definitely shorter then the last two, but to be honest. I have to have the Joker in every chapter. Because life's fun like that. So unless he's in it, it'll keep going until he is lol. Anyway, the next chapter will probably be shorter as well... maybe. Who fucking knows, I sure as hell don't. Rofl.

ANYWHO! Your comments make me happy. Kudos and favorites make me smile. :D

Yes! Fallon! I know! You want more! Lol. You keep me going man. :P


	6. Chapter 6 - Flashing Lights

Welcome back to another installment of "What the fuck is going on?!" Enjoy.

Okay just a chronological order type thing in my technical world. The Joker does stuff all the time but chronologically, Barbra is shot, Jason is killed, Nightwing leaves, Tim becomes Red Robin, Dark Knight, Arkham: Asylum, Arkham: City, present. Whew. I'm not saying everything that happened in the comics happened in this universe, because I've never read all of the comics so I can't incorporate any of them into this.

Shattered Identities

Chapter 6

Flashing Lights

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"Feeling at home Bats?" The Joker finally crooned, breaking the strange silence between them as they trudged through the foul smell sludge. The Dark Knight's flash light the only source of light in the dank enclosed space. The walls were the same, dark brown to black muck covered the bricks, rusting pipes ran along the middle crisscrossing, disappearing and re-appearing at random.

"Yeah, if I lived in a dumpster." Batman replied sourly, briefly wondering how long it would take to get the smell out of his suit. The madman tilted his head backward, taking in the vigilante's scowl. Dirty water soaked into his Arkham issued pants, every drop that splattered higher leaving a dark watery smudge. One hand slung behind him, hanging limply in the hand cuff.

"Really?! I thought you'd like it here." The maniac gestured at the grim colored walls enclosing them.

"I mean being a bat and all, I thought you'd be used to, guano." The Joker snickered a smile back on his face, splashing a little too forcefully through the disgusting water in his amusement. Batman scowled as it spattered his lower abdomen, some rare drops hitting his chest, soaking into his Kevlar.

"One: I don't live in shit. Two: I'm surprised you know what guano is." The Dark Knight muttered with a scowl, falling back a few more inches in an attempt to avoid the wretched water, the cuff biting into his Kevlar encased wrist. The Joker's smile immediately dropped from his face at Batman's words, replaced by a dry stare, a chuckle accompanying it.

"I'm crazy Bats!" The maniac exclaimed with a grin.

"Not dumb." The madman finished with a tight smirk, his eyes narrowing in annoyance giving their wrists a playful tug, Bruce fought the smile tugging at his lips. Batman shrugged his broad shoulders, breaking their eye contact, it was always strange that the Joker knew he was insane. Wasn't that the opposite of insanity, already knowing your insane?

"Yeah? I wonder some times." The Detective shot back and the maniac rolled his eyes in reply, turning back around to stare into the darkness ahead. One hand coming up to trail along the mold covered walls, Bruce's lip curled in disgust as he collected sludge.

"My, well developed, dear." The Joker started giving the Dark Knight a leisurely once over.

"There is a, cavernous gap. Between delusional, egotistic dimwit and – " The Joker drawled out pausing to draw a smiley face into the gunk growing on the sewer walls, his own smile gracing his lips.

"Obsessed, psychotic sadist? Or, is it masochist. I'm never quite sure with you." Batman interjected sarcastically, pushing at the man's thin shoulder to get him walking again. The Joker barely budged an inch, only taking a steading step back in the water, Bruce swung the flash light onto the man. The maniac turned his vibrant green eyes to the vigilante, tutted and wagged his gunk covered finger at him.

"Brilliant!" The Joker added, poking the grimy finger into the Bat symbol on Batman's chest pointedly, leaving a diseased trail of moss and sewage waste down the center. The Dark Knight scowled in disgust, grabbing the other male's hand he ripped it away from his clothes.

"Obsessed, psychotic. Sadomasochist!" The madman corrected his palms opening flamboyantly in emphasis. Bruce narrowed his eyes on the man, his lips thinning in annoyance. The Joker made a disappointed click with the side of his mouth.

"Almost sweet pea. So close. Oh. So close." The Joker whispered, holding up his fingers, a tiny space in between them. The Dark Knight glared down at him, and the madman grinned back pushing away from the vigilante with a giggle. It was Bruce's turn to roll his eyes, but he was Batman, so he refrained from committing the action, letting the maniac slip out of his grip.

"You're impossible." Batman muttered, decidedly taking the lead, making the tight squeeze past the crime lord, hoping he didn't get any more grim on his suit.

"Oh ho ho." The madman held his hands up in surrender letting the vigilante slip past in peace. By Bruce's calculations it should be about a minute before they were underneath the bank, this tunnel the Joker spoke of should be close and if it wasn't... Bruce wasn't sure who to be more angry at. Himself or the maniac beside him.

"Thats rich! Coming from the full grown. And boy! Do I mean full grown! Oh. But. Uh, not old sweethe..." The Joker trailed off a sour look on his face, like the words in his mouth tasted just as foul as the water they were trudging through.

" – ty? Sweety? Nope, ruined." The Joker whined pitifully, The Dark Knight turn to him and the madman held up a hand with a scowl, taking a deep breath. Batman raised an amused eyebrow at the action, not that the man could see it.

"Where was I? Oh yeah. Full grown, man. That dresses up as a Bat every night!" The Joker chuckled with amusement. Batman turned away at his words ready to continue on, they didn't have time for this, but the Clown refused to budge, the cuffs digging into their wrists. The Dark Knight turned around to glare at the clown, his jaw tight, the flash light almost blinding the madman as he leveled it on him. The Joker smiled sweetly closing the small distance between them, keeping their eyes locked. Bruce hated looking into those eyes, piercing deranged intelligence looking back at him, searching for nothing more then every last one of his dark secrets. He turned away again, they really didn't have time for this. He wasn't playing these games, his flash light shown on the empty sewers ahead.

"Instead of leading a real life. Like a normal. Human. Being." The Joker whispered tilting his head, a knowing smirk on his lips. Bruce came to a stop turning around to face the madman, leveling his flashlight on the male. Batman's eyes narrowed on the pale maniac, sizing him up in all his deranged glory.

"Because you would know whats normal." The vigilante grunted out sardonically, his lips thin in irritation. Despite what the madman believed, he had no right to judge Bruce's lifestyle.

"Come on! Like talking to a brick wall." The Joker groaned in frustration, tilting his head back, he slapped a dirty palm to his head in disbelief, leaving smudges of moss if its place.

"Isn't that the point Bats! We aren't normal!" The maniac insisted frustration obvious in his stance, the way his hands tensed in their gesturing.

"We. Don't. Know. Normal!" He cried out, gesturing violently between Batman and himself. Bruce ground his teeth in annoyance, ready to get back to the task at hand, he didn't need to hear this, he had people to save.

"Hell we don't want normal!" The Dark Knight shifted to turn around.

"No! No, no, no, no. no." The Joker leapt forward his hands firmly on the vigilante's shoulders keeping him in place.

"I bet." The madman stated, holding on finger up in from of Batman's face, the flashlight cutting up between the two men, as if they were sharing ghost stories, secrets.

"Everyday. You look into the mirror, and wish you didn't have to walk into the sun light." The Joker whispered slowly, a pleased smile gracing his lips when Batman's jaw muscles flexed. The madman stepped forward more, cutting out the little light streaming between their bodies.

"Is that what you do?" The Dark Knight growled out after a few moments of silence, refusing to back away or lash out, despite his desires to do so. The maniac grinned, raising an eyebrow he stepped back, a hand coming up to gesture at his scarred face.

"Uh, Sun?! On this skin?! Have you not seen! My complexion?! God no! That stuffs a killer." Suddently the Joker's good humor slipped away.

"And I would know killers. Oh ho! Do I know the funniest ways to kill things!" The Joker cried out, a sharp edge to his voice. Batman scowled and the madman's smirk deepened with a twisted edge, cutting at the Dark Knights resolves.

"Not. Funny." The vigilante ground out stepping closer to the Clown to tower over him, daring him to continue with his morbid jokes.

"Alright, alright." The Joker held up his hands in surrender, letting his head fall forward with a pout.

"You're right." The maniac sighed dramatically, then a chuckle left his lips. His head jerked up, piercing eyes meet Batman's own.

"It's hilarious!" The madman exclaimed, leveling Batman with a biting gaze.

"You know what was more funny? Harvey Dent." The madman whispered taking a step forward again, the smirk back in place. Bruce scowled anger clawing at his insides, his fists clenched. His entire body tensing, begging him to smash the man's grinning face into the grim covered walls, just for uttering the name.

"Oh! Rachel Dawes? Huh?! That lovely! Woman you tried to save in his place." The man sneered with a twisted smile, standing on his toes to close the distance between them even farther, walking his free fingers up the vigilante's chest. Batman's breathing was harsh, his muscles rigid, ready to strike, begging for release. The Joker frowned in indifference for a quick second, breaking their eye contact, before his smirk was back in place, his eyes just as cutting.

"Barbra. Gordon?" The Joker giggled tilting his head to the side like an adorable child asking for candy, his index and middle finger tapping out the words. Batman didn't move, didn't back down, didn't thrash out, didn't breath as the Joker leaned to the side, his body pressed against the vigilante's, his blood splattered cheek brushing against Bruce's own. The cowl protecting him from most of the touch, from the breath that would surely be caressing his ear.

"Jason." The Joker whispered almost sensually. The world stood still, the madman closing his eyes ready for the pain. A deep breath was heaved, Batman's chest rising in his suit, the maniac's palm moving with it, the well trained body quivering with rage. Then the Dark Knight stepped away, turning his back on the Clown. The Joker froze in place at the sudden movement, his eyes wide, staring at that broad back. Any previous amusement or sick pleasure wiped from his features, stricken disbelief replacing it. The vigilante tugged calmly at the chain when he had finally walked as far away from the maniac as he could, not bothering to turn around to face him.

"Nothing? Nothing at all?" The madman exhaled shakily, Batman bowed his head staring at the water beneath them. He wanted to be angry, to hold on to that rage, but he couldn't, because that's what the man wanted. Joker wanted Bruce as angry as the madman felt and he wasn't going to allow it. He wasn't going to dredge up that pain just so he could momentarily feel better pounding the man's face in.

"Nothing?! Not a peep?! I just brought up your dead bird and you? You walk away?!" The Joker howled at him, giving their joined wrists a violent tug. The maniac lost his footing, almost falling into the murky waste when Batman refused to budge at his tantrum. The madman's hand slapped against the wall, his nails digging into the brick as he caught himself, water splashing up onto his shirt, into his face and hair. Silence reigned though the tunnel, only the soft drips of water and shallow pants could be heard. A feral growl ripped through the stale air, echoing ominously off the walls.

"Baaaats!" The water suddenly splashed, and Batman almost lost his balance as the smaller man threw his full weight onto the vigilante's back. The Dark Knight fell forward, arms flinging out to keep his balance, the flash light falling from his hands, swinging violently on its clip connected to his belt, the light danced swiftly across the walls and back again. The maniac wrapped his arms around the Caped Crusader's neck, throwing his entire weight backwards in an attempt to bring them both down. His thin legs wrapped around the Bat's waist, holding him tight, allowing him to apply pressure to the masked man's wind pipe. After a few seconds of struggling to regain his footing, Batman finally got his balance back, the Clown still attached to his back howling in frustration, unable to move him any farther.

"Get. Off." The Dark Knight ground out, his breathing obstructed even through his Kevlar suit. The Joker threw his weight back again and Batman's hand shot up gripping the man's grungy green hair. The Joker let out a cry of pain as the vigilante got a fist full of it yanking the maniac violently over his shoulder. The Clown fell awkwardly into the water, splashing more grunge onto his clothing, drenching anything below his abdomen, one hand grabbing the rusted pipes the only thing saving him from plunging in entirely. Batman lifted him by his hair from the water, slamming his smaller form against the moss covered walls, the pipes digging into the madman's back.

The Dark Knight slammed a fist into the bricks beside the Joker's head, easily denting the wall, sending flecks of rock into the water, some landing on the maniac's shoulder, catching in his hair. Pale hands reached up, grasping at his own gloved one. They clawed desperately to remove his grip, the madman still growling like a feral animal, easily reminding Bruce of the inmates he had met in the asylum earlier that night. Batman leaned in, a sneer on his face, getting into the Joker's personal space. The Joker paused, his eyes flashing sharply in warning. Then nails swiped at his face, clawed at his Kevlar, trying to reach any flesh they could. The Dark Knight slammed his body against the Joker's, turning the undamaged side of his face away from the madman, crushing the man's lungs, his breath leaving in a forced gasp. Batman let out his own growl and another gloved hand was shoved under the maniac's chin, returning the favor of a crushed wind pipe. The Joker painfully sucked in a breath, one arm pinned between them, the other clutching at his new grip, successfully subdued, for now, their faces merely inches apart. Bright absinthe green eyes pierced through dark stormy blue ones, easily seeing more then just color or emotions, the Joker's eyes always saw their souls.

"I know, what you want." Batman growled out, his hand tightening on the man's throat, shifting a little higher, a little closer. The Joker's head tilted up in accommodation, his face entirely dead, his body limp against the wall, completely void of emotion. His eyes however, in the depths, still held a raging beast.

"I know what your doing. I know..." Bruce trailed off not quite sure what he was going to say, what he could say, if he had anything to complete that sentence other than repeating himself. He broke eye contact looking down, admiring how his black gloved hand contrasted so completely with the Joker's skin. Why was this so difficult? Why out of all of the criminals in Gotham was the Joker still around? Still alive? Still wreaking havoc on the city? Why was he here? Why was he, here. Now. Of all times.

"What I need." The Joker whispered and Batman's head snapped up, their eyes locking again.

"What?" The Dark Knight asked confusion apparent in his eyes, his grip loosening.

"You know. What. I. Need." The Joker said again leaning forward the small meters Bruce had let up, slowly this time, calmly, like he was talking a suicide bomber out of the job. It was true, and it was scary. The thought chilled Bruce to his bones, the fact that he knew crazy. The Joker scowled when he didn't say anything.

"I'm an addict Batsy. So sue me." The maniac admitted with a hiss, pressing his own Adam's apple against Batman's enclosed hand, his nose close, almost brushing the cowl. Bruce searched those intelligently mad eyes for a moment, wondering how someone could be so insane, yet completely sane in the same moment. Finally the vigilante stepped away, freeing the Joker's body from the wall.

"I don't have time for this." The Dark Knight grunted releasing the madman completely, he turned back towards their destination. The Joker let out a frustrated scream, tugging at his hair as Batman picked up the flashlight, it back forward to light up their path.

"Mark my words, Batsy Baby. I will kill. Every. Last. One of them." The Joker promised darkly, slipping past Batman's unmoving body to slink ahead. The vigilante followed behind him, making the silent promise that he would try to stop ever single attempt the man made. They walked in silence again, this time tension hung between them, a vibrant knife's edge, waiting for the plunge into unsuspecting flesh.

"It's here." The Joker stated dully one finger pressing against the stones, he fixed Batman with a lazily cocked eyebrow. The vigilante's eyes narrowed at the brick wall, walking forward a few steps his broad form forcing the maniac out of the way, he knocked on the grimy stones, listening. The madman was right, there was something on the other side. Tapping a few more times, Bruce finally decided that his explosive gel could break through, all the while the Clown watched him intently, soaking in his every move. Bruce shifted uncomfortably under the madman's gaze, removing his gadget from his belt, he sprayed the wall with his signature bat.

"Awwww thats cute." The Joker muttered with a pout, glowering like he wanted to be mad at the vigilante but couldn't quite keep it up, his hair mused from the man handling, his neck still red.

"Stand back." The Dark Knight grunted and the Clown lifted his hands stepping away a few feet, Batman lifted his gadget pressing the detonation button. The sewer shook, bits of brick flying around, but the bulk of it fell into the tunnel beyond them, leaving dust to settle slowly to the ground. Batman watched the Joker turn his face away, holding his hands up to protect his face. Their eyes met just before he turned back to survey the damage.

"Well thats nifty." The Joker stated, waltzing past Batman and into the tunnel. He stretched a little as he entered the larger space, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Welcome to the French tunnel of love! And by love I mean money smuggling." The Joker exclaimed with a snicker. The tunnel was definitely bigger then the sewer they arrived by. The best part, there was no foul smelling sewage they needed to tramp through. Not that the damage hadn't already been done to his suit. Batman could still smell it as they made their way into the empty tunnel. Looking back into the darkness of the new tunnel he wondered were it lead to. This was definitely something he was going to look into when this whole situation was dealt with. A running rail track was laid into the ground, the walls a fresher red brick then the sewers. Batman switched off his flashlight as The Joker's skipping form activated the lights.

"Come on tough guy. Apparently your late for a date!" The Joker chuckled darkly, gesturing him along towards the door a several yards down, crates littering the way a lone cart attached to the tracks.

"It's not a date." Batman muttered, stalking past the Joker to peer into the empty cart. The Joker stopped turning around to pout at him.

"Is that what you always say when you're off to meet me?" The madman huffed, kicking said cart in annoyance. Batman glared at him as he walked around the other side of the cart, their connected wrists being forced over the top.

"I'm hurt Bats." He stated halting in his steps, to glare at the vigilante, he slumped down onto the edge of the cart, his head resting on his free hand. Bruce clenched his jaw in irritation, walking the rest of the way around the cart, half tempted to start another tug-a-war with the maniac if he didn't come along. The caped crusader turned a little giving the Joker a once over, taking in his shabby appearance, his scratched up arms and bruised skin. Mussed hair, and pale complexion showing off just how much blood he really had on him.

"Yeah I saw." The Dark Knight grunted walking forward again, remembering the litany of bruises on his stomach, tugging gently on the madman, who subconsciously stumbled around the cart, his face screwed up in confusion.

"Wha – No, no, not those! They're just scratches. To be honest I forgot they were there." The Joker chuckled and Batman sent him a scathing gaze as they approached the metal door, crates shoved up to the wall on one side. He could still feel his own ribs throbbing and they weren't even close to being as bruised as the Joker's were.

"I mean come on! You know I'm tougher then that! You should have seen me after you – ." The vigilante pivoted quickly his cape snapping along with him, effectively cutting off the madman's words. He didn't want to hear what damage he's done.

"Please. Stop talking." Batman leveled the maniac with a steady glare. Turning back around at the Joker's raised eyebrow he tried the closed door. It was locked of course. Shifting he got a little lower slamming his shoulder into the metal. Still nothing. If this was a dead end... He tried again with the same result.

"You wanna know the definition of insanity?" The Joker asked with amusement and Batman glowered at him.

"Its locked." The Dark Knight stated, both of the Joker's eyebrows rose, crossing his arms he sent Batman an scathingly amused look. 

"Really?" He asked sarcastically, "I wasn't sure. I thought you just, liked, the feel of metal slamming into you." The maniac chuckled leaning against the door, crossing his legs at the ankles, licking his lips.

"I mean. That's why you do it to me, right? Foreplay and all that jazz?" The Joker smirked his eyes widening briefly to emphasize jazz, he lifted a finger, running it down the metal seductively his eyes never leaving the over grown Bat. Batman growled, slamming a fist against the closed door, only inches from madman's head.

"Will. You. Stop. Already? We're stuck together for the night. No need to make it any more unpleasant, then it already is." Batman ground out shoving himself away from the door, the maniac's eyes trailed along after him a frown on his face.

"Says you." The Clown pouted grumpily, pushing away from the door as well, glaring at the vigilante as the Bat took a few more steps back the way they came, the cuffs tugging on their wrists when the Joker didn't follow. Blue eyes narrowed in on their entry point, and the Joker's head jerked around, eyebrow raised as he saw it as well.

"We'll go through the vent." Batman grunted pushing the madman out of the way as he moved forward again. He immediately stalked to a stack of crates, the Joker trailing along like a reluctant puppy, only moving when the cuffs required it.

"Oh! Sounds like an adventure!" The Dark Knight bent down, pulling the Joker with him to shove the stacked crates over, his bruised ribs and injured leg protesting angrily with the movement. Batman refused to show the pain though, swiftly pushing the boxes underneath the grate. He climbed onto the crates quickly, ripping the bars off of the opening with one hand, the other still connected to the madman's who stood below him with an unamused gaze, then his eyes lit up, a smile gracing his lips.

"You go first. I wouldn't mind some alone time with that – ." The Joker started standing a little behind the vigilante gazing at his ass, the cape fallen to the side. Batman dropped back down, his teeth gritted, jaw muscles tense. He turned on the maniac, grabbing the Joker by the shirt and hoisting him off the ground.

"Shut. Up. And get in there." Batman growled shoving him towards the boxes, the maniac slammed into them with open palms.

"Alright. Alright. Bossy. Bossy." The clown huffed scampering onto the crates, Batman's hand being pulled up after him.

"I'm going! You see me going? How you like the view?" The Joker asked as he reached the top, his torso bent over the corner, glancing smugly down at the Dark Knight.

"Just move." Batman ground out, his eyes narrowing up at the madman. 

"You know. When you talk like that – ." The maniac started, resting his elbow on the crates, his head in on his hand, watching Batman's muscles flex in irritation. 

"Joker." The vigilante growled in warning, stepping up onto the first crate. The Joker rolled his eyes dramatically with a sigh, crawling the rest of the way onto the crates and into the .

"Right, right. Crawling. Just how you like it." The Joker growled out creeping slowly through the vent.

"I'm serious." Batman almost sighed, hefting himself up onto the boxes as well. The Joker huffed in amusement, rolling his eyes. 

"You're always serious love. Why so serious?" He drawled out, reminding the caped crusader of darker times.

"I mean really! Am I not enough clown for you?" The madman asked turning his head awkwardly to look back at the Dark Knight who was finally on top of the crates, his angry face just behind the clown.

"I hate clowns." The vigilante hissed, he wanted to shove the madman forward, but didn't want to touch the maniac's ass, he knew just how much the deranged man would enjoy that.

"Again. Ouch." The Joker stated, turning back around. They crawled awkwardly for a few more seconds, the maniac tugging at Bruce's hand every time he moved. They come to a turn that lead steadily upwards. The first grate they came to was blocked off by boxes, and Batman didn't want to chance busting in on a group of armed guards, not with the Joker attached to him.

"How long are we going to crawl through this stuff?! Spiders aren't my favorite. And unlike you! I don't have a handy suit." The Joker finally complained as they reached a split in the vents, stopping to swat some webs out of his face. A tiny spider scuttled over his hand and the Joker panicked, slamming it against the vent wall, the sound echoing down the small path.

"Left. You'll get over it." Batman replied, it was true though, he didn't notice little things like spiders, webs, snow or light rain. The Joker shuffled in the vent enough to turn his head, licking his lips he glanced back giving the vigilante a dry incredulous stare. He clicked his tongue and turned ahead when Batman simply gazed back blankly.

"If I get bit. By a black widow. I'm coming. Back. To haunt you." The Joker warned crawling forward again. Batman shook his head, glad that for once the madman's haunting eyes weren't on him.

"Don't you always?" The Dark Knight muttered, inspecting the tiny insects he passed, just in case.

"Oooh, clever." The maniac giggled, his voice echoing through the vents, his ragged clothing jostling with his laughter.

"You know what's not clever?" Batman scoffed, crushing a little bug under his glove as he crawled behind the man.

"What?" The madman asked excitedly, stopping in his movement through the vent. Wait was that a black widow?

"Your face." The vigilante replied off handedly crushing a little black spider, then he realized what he had said and who he had said it to, he slowly tore his eyes from the dead insect as the madman stopped ahead of him.

"Really?" The Joker asked turning back once more, his brows furrowed in anger. Bruce hadn't really thought that statement through, but he wasn't taking it back.

"Not. Clever." He growled out incredulous when Batman's face didn't change, but he didn't want to deal with a sour maniac for the rest of the night.

"I enjoy disappointing you." The Dark Knight smirked swatting the madman's shoes, urging him to move on, hoping to distract the man.

"Everyone you mean?" The Joker smirked back sardonically, turning back to the task at hand. Bruce gritted his teeth at the jab, trying to ignore the pangs of regret his words brought up. The Joker chuckled darkly as they moved on, the uneasy quiet settling back over them.

"Quietly." Batman ground out as they neared an open grate, this one should be on the second floor at least. The vigilante tried to lean to the side, attempting to see past the Joker's thin frame. His broad shoulders didn't allow for much leeway however, a few inches at most.

"What do you see?" The Dark Knight finally asked, gritting his teeth ready for the Joker's probably sarcastic reply.

"Nothing." The madman said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders in boredom.

"Joker." Batman growled leaning forward in the grate, ready to wrestle the maniac out of the way.

"What? Hey!" The Joker exclaimed when the Bat started man handling his feet. The vigilante tore him backwards, his back sliding across the vent, his shirt riding up.

"I see an empty. Balcony. Overlooking some offices." The Joker ground out as Batman shimmied over him, just enough to see out the grate, not that the clown was complaining. The Dark Knight took a second to survey the area, one hand resting on the madman's hips for support as he peered out, finally backing up when the madman started squirming underneath him, making playful noises and tugging at his cape.

"The C.E.O.'s office should be beneath us." The Caped Crusader stated resting a fist against the vent, still hovering over the madman. Swatting one of the Joker's hands away from him he stared expectantly at the maniac who simply stared back at him, still laid out on the vent beneath him.

"What are you waiting for?" Batman grunted, his lips tightening in annoyance.

"What? Wait." The Joker tilted his head back to stare at the grate before leveling it back onto the vigilante.

"What am, I? Waiting for?! What do I look like, Tarzan?!" The Joker asked raising his hands in the air. Batman replied with a dry glower and the madman huffed in surrender, scrambling back around he took a crack at the grate, placing a muck covered shoe against the bars. It creaked under the pressure of his boots, but the man slid backwards. Batman moved forward letting the madman's back rest against his chest giving him the leverage he needed. Then it clattered to the ground painfully loud, the grate falling over the edge of the balcony, the railing completely missing.

"Oh look, maybe I am." The Joker laughed, the grate skittered across the ground below, a small beeping noise starting up.

"Quie – ." Batman tried, as the Joker jumped out of the vent and onto the floor, the cuffs pulling taunt on their wrists, Bruce refusing to give the menace any leeway.

"Hello bank!" The madman called out, his free arm thrown out in joy, his cuffed hand stuck to the wall just under the vent.

" – tly." Bruce trailed off in irritation, then his arm snapped up to cover his eyes as the room exploded. Joker was slammed against the wall below the vent covering his own face. When the vigilante's ears finished ringing he crept to the edge of the vent peering down. The Joker grinned up at him, ash now littering his clothes, coughing pathetically he wiped debris off his face.

"I'm going to gag you." Batman snarled down at the madman, who chuckled back at him with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Kinky." The Joker smirked, chuckling, and Batman finally rolled his eyes, dropping to the floor silently.

"It wont be." The Dark Knight stated dryly dropping to the floor quietly. The speakers over head crackled on, The Joker's voice booming through the room almost as loud as the bomb.

"What? What is tha – Bats?! What are you. Thats not fair! I set up so many presents for your way down from the roof! Meticulously planned out. So why?! do you always have to cheat?!"

"He has a point." The real Joker muttered from his place on the floor, "It takes so much effort to – ."

"Shut up." Batman grunted peering over the edge of the balcony to survey the room.

"That's alright! I've left you some more presents! These ones are just. Dying. For your attention! Careful though, they're excitement can be a bit. Explosive." The speakers emitted a cackling laugh then cut off, leaving an eerie silence in its place. The ground was obviously rigged with proximity mines, but why? What was this Joker's game?

"Well. Go on Bats!" The maniac cried out from behind him, something pressed against the small of his back and suddenly he was air born. The Joker lowered his boot as Batman hit the ground painfully. His entire body tensed ready to escape from any mines, when nothing started beeping he pushed to his knees.

"JOKER!" Batman roared flipping around to stare angrily up at the madman's smirking face. The Joker put his hands in his pockets, his eyes creasing in amusement. He rocked onto his tip toes before falling back and repeating the action.

"It's been fun B-baby." The Joker stated bending over the edge to gaze down at the pissed off Bat.

"Maybe next time we can keep it between just us. Yeah?" The Joker asked as he gestured between them, chuckling he pivoted merrily.

"I'll catch ya around Batsy!" The clown called down to him waving a hand back at him in farewell as he waltzed away. The vent panging as the madman crawled back into it.

"Joker!" The Dark Knight shouted again, his hand instinctively going for his grappling gun, but it wasn't there. It was on the ground near the sewer entrance. Swearing Bruce surveyed his surroundings again easily spotting the mines. He'd have to deal with the escape artist later. Speaking of, he reached down easily tearing off the cuffs, no key needed. The room around him was a basic upscale office, the tile floor done in dark blue marble. The ceiling was a sky light, pots of plants sat merrily in the corners. Switching to heat sensors Batman realized that the random boxes he had seen placed through out the room actually contained people. They were missing the Joker's unusual flair however. Something that the original Joker would never forget, would never let slid.

The proximity bomb Bruce had landed on was thankfully no longer active. The grate had set it off when that madman had kicked it off the edge. The area around the bomb was charred the offices closest to him a pile of rubble. This whole ordeal normally wouldn't have been that hard of a task, but his grappling hook was still laying on the pavement near the Bat mobile. This is why he should always pack replacements, but he had gotten cocky. They had never broken before, not for a long time at any rate, not since the upgrades. The walls dividing the offices were easily transversed, they looked sturdy enough to hold his weight, getting the hostages out however was going to be a different story. He still had the disarming gadget from Arkham City, but that only turned off two bombs at once and only for a limited amount of time. Bruce hoped this Joker wannabe was more patient then the real one, he had thought that too soon, the speakers crackling on.

"Awwww what's wrong Bats? I find it hard to believe this isn't something you can figure out. Oh, oh! I have an idea! How about you just leave them. Aaaand. Come see me instead?! What's a few lives in the long run anyway?! Come on Sweetheart! They aren't the only ones. Dying. To see you." The fake clown chuckled darkly the speakers switching off. Bruce felt his energy sap away a little, the last thing he wanted to do today was see another scarred grinning face. Except in the end, the absolute last thing he, needed, to see; was more dead bodies. Holding back a deep sigh Batman stood up from his crouched position. The offices closest to him were a disaster thanks to the explosion. Luckily none of the maniac's "presents" were near the damage. Listening carefully he crept forward and over the debris, easily keeping his balance on the shifting rubble. Batman hefted himself onto the the remaining wall, still connected to the rest of the room's offices. In the office over a beeping started, slow and steady. The vigilante crept forward slowly paying close attention to the speed of the beeps. He crept to the first stall holding a box, and took a deep irritated breath, a blinking light sat on top of the box, accompanied by the slow beeping. The speakers crackled on.

"Oh look! It's happy to see you! Give it up Sweetheart, they're a lost cause. Just come play with me!" The man whined sounding eerily close to the original, but the tone was off, higher pitch. Bruce wouldn't of noticed before, but he had spent enough time with the real Prince of Crime that night to know the difference. Batman disarmed the bomb with his gadget, examining the box throughly before ripping it open. A woman lay inside completely knocked out, breathing deeply, her blonde hair sticking wildly to the sides of the box. Bruce reached in gently pulling the woman out and tossing her light frame over his shoulder. His leg bit at him painfully, his abs tensing to balance out the added weight, his muscles pressing against the bruised ribs. Any other night he could easily carry two bodies. Any other night he wouldn't have to. Tonight just wasn't his fucking night.

Bruce was on the second hostage when the speakers crackled on once more, and this time, they didn't turn off, and The Joker was right. They did sound like broken records, that never shut up.

"Bats! Seriously! What?! Is taking so long? Are they as heavy as they look? I wouldn't know. If they caused me that much, trouble I'd normally just. You know." The Joker trailed off with a dark chuckle.

"Bang!"

"Just kidding." 

"Hey Bats? How many pedestrians does it take to stop a train?"

"You're right, I don't know either. We should find out some time! Just drop them out there, we'll start with one. But we both know that wont work, right sweetheart. Then we can try two! Boom. Splat! Probably wont do much, I mean really. Its a train. Three? All at once. Just one big mess. Four..."

"I think around twenty we might start slowing it down, what do you think sweetheart? It'd be like a pile of flesh, right? Unless we dropped them off. One. By. One. We could just line them up! Oh, wait wait! I want to conduct the train! That would be a riot! One splat after another. Twenty one would just be another blip in the ride, right? Twenty two..."

"Eighty nine. Definitely some more impact then eighty eight. I mean we're one closer to ninety. You think they'd scream?" Batman had finally hefted the last victim onto the platform. Following the fat man's smelly body off the bomb littered floor below. Bruce stalked past the man's wide girth opening the door to the C.E.O.'s office. Turning back around he glared at the obese man before moving towards him, placing black gloved hands under the male's sweaty arm pits, he got low using his leg muscles to pull the man slowly back into the room. He let out a relived sigh dropping the large male to the floor, not really caring how hard his head hit the carpet. He glided past not giving the room, or its unconscious occupants, a second glance slamming the door closed behind him. He was definitely tired of this night.

"Ninety – oh! Are we done now? What do you think sweetheart? You think ninety eight would stop a train? Thats the number we reached, right? I'ma try it some time! It'll be our special number. Speaking of numbers! I'm counting some in the vault right now, why don't you come stop by! I've been dying to see you!" The Joker squealed happily, the speakers finally shutting off. Quiet reigned over the room and Bruce took a steadying breath, enjoying the moment. The speaker crackled on again.

"Seriously sweetheart. I know you don't care about them, but... Minions are people too." A gun shoot echoed through the room, warped by the speakers. Bruce gritted his teeth in anger, pushing off of the balcony and gliding to the office cubicle walls.

"Now that's what I thought. I'd say one for every minute you make me wait, but I'm a little short handed today, so let's say you have, hmm, five minutes. Four. Three? Lets do three. See ya soon Bats." The Fake insisted cutting out again with a fit of giggles. Batman rushed across the cubicles, gliding right up to the door out. He slipped through, easily taking out the three men guarding the main entry way within six seconds. He rushed across the bank's empty foyer, hoping the fancy counters he slid to the floor rushing into the next room, the bank vault stood open light streaming from inside. Batman slowed down, stalking farther into the room, passing the edge of the vault, bringing its insides into view. The copy cat Joker stood at the back of the Vault a gun pressed to a civilian's head, his back to the vigilante. Batman raised his hands in surrender walking slowly into the room. The metal sorting table, situated in the middle, the only thing separating him from the madman. Money lay around in heaps, littering the floor, several safety deposit boxes torn open. A bullet hole dented one of the boxes, but there was no dead body on the floor.

"Shh shh sh sh sh shhhh. Quiet darling he'll be here any second. I don't want you whimpering through our little chat, its annoying. How abo – wah, wait. He's – ." The Fake Joker, dressed in similar fashion to the original, almost down to the cuff links, flipped around suddenly his grip shifting in the woman's dark hair. Frail feminine hands clawed at his purple gloved ones, her eyes met Batman's in terror, her make-up smeared down her face. The Joker tightened his fingers yanking her farther off the ground as his eyes met Batman's.

"Hey there sweetheart! Took you long enough! I was actually starting to worry the cops would show up sooner then you did!" The madman laughed still gesturing with his hands, despite having a solid grip on the woman's hair, tugging her with him as he moved, a gun solidly held in his other hand. He gestured that one loosely around the place, aiming at everyone and every thing absentmindedly.

"The games over Joker, give it up." The Fake Joker looked around in confusion, his scarred lips pursed. Then he tapped the woman on the head with the gun clicking his tongue.

"Not quite Batsy." The Joker giggled smoothing the woman's hair out of her frightened face with the tip of the gun. Batman fingered his remote batarang, but stopped, curiosity winning him over.

"What's the point, Joker? What's the point of all of this? What's your end game?" He asked deeply, creeping a few more steps closer. The Fake Joker laughed shaking his head, but the laughter died out, his body tensing, jaw clenched and his brows creased, scratching his own head with the tip of the gun. Then he tipped it at the vigilante, shaking the barrel it at him with a tight smile.

"You Bats. Its always you. I just see you." The maniac scowled, the woman whimpered and the gloved hand reigned her closer to him, the gun returning to its place on the woman's skull. Batman simply nodded his head, stepping forward again, now in dashing range of the maniac.

"Then you can have me. Let her go. We'll switch. Me for her." The Joker's lips twitched, his eyes narrowing, a small biting laugh cutting through.

"I don't believe you, sweetheart. Not with that fancy belt of gags you carry around." They stared each other down for several seconds. Batman was the first to move voluntarily, his hands slowly reaching up for his belt. It didn't matter what kind of maniac this guy was, he was a better match against a gun any time he was suited up, that woman didn't stand a chance.

"Alright deal." Batman grunted, he unbuckled his belt, reluctantly tossing it out of the vault, batarang still in hand.

"No gags. On either side." Batman growled, his hands resting by his sides. The maniac cocked his head to the side, staring for several seconds, sizing him up. Then he tore the woman up from the ground almost holding her solely by her hair, her cry of pain echoing through the vault.

"Guess you're saved sweetheart." The madman hissed at the woman, his lips close enough to leave smudges of red lipstick on her checks. He let her hair go and she fell to the ground, her arms slapping against the floor. She scrambled up ready to dash out of the room, and the Joker tutted, pressing the gun against the back of her head, stopping her immediately.

"Not quite. Slowly, doll, slowly." The madman grinned his unarmed hand shot out a finger pointing towards Batman.

"And you. You stay right. Where you are." The Fake Joker suggested, watching the woman walk slowly to the exit. The gun was immediately trained on Batman when the woman cleared the edge of the vault, her high heels clicking across the tile as she ran.

"Well you've got me." Batman grunted taking another step forward, the maniac jerked back, an unfamiliar flash of fear in his eyes.

"What now, Joker? What is this really all about. What is it, that you want?" Batman asked slowly taking a step forward, making sure his shift in weight went unnoticed this time. The real Joker never had reason, he didn't need it. Didn't need people to see why he did things, because he didn't care about people. Didn't want to connect with them. This wasn't the Joker however, and Bruce wanted to see what their driving force was. It was close to the real madman of course, Batman had always played a part in his twisted games, but no one could match that madness.

"Really? I mean. It has always been about you!" The Joker said waving the gun around hazardously. The Fake was wrong, it hadn't always been about him. The real madman had always invited him to play, but he always had an end game, a favorable outcome to his crimes. Favorable for the Joker of course.

"What about me?" Batman pressed, wondering how far the madness stretched in these, clones or whatever.

"What about you?" The Fake replied with a sneer, glancing around the now empty room, his lips pursed as if he wasn't quite sure where to go from here. Then a light sparked in his eyes.

"Oh. I remember." The gun leveled on Bruce's face, the one open area on his entire suit. Batman lunged forward taking the bullet to the shoulder, his Kevlar suit easily stopping the bullet, but his skin would still be painfully bruised in the morning. He slammed into the madman, his hand tightening painfully on his armed wrist forcing the muscles to spasm releasing the gun. He immediately kicked the weapon under the steel table, while blocking the Fake Joker's right hook. He went in for another punch but the madman jumped him, latching his arms around the Dark Knight's neck pulling him in close. Batman's hand fisted green hair, tearing the man's head backwards, noticing that his Adams apple wasn't as pronounced as the real one's. He also noticed the small surgical lines underneath his jaw, Bruce's eyes widened.

"Ah ah ah. Batsy." The madman reached down with a free hand, ripping open his vest. Batman's jaw clenched at the bombs laced around the maniac's torso. The purple glove came back with a remote control, a satisfied smile on his painted scarred lips.

"I hear you're tired of our games. Well I'm tired of seeing you. Every. Time. I close my eyes. So let's make a deal. Let's both go out w – ." Batman didn't let him finish, slamming a fist into his Adams apple while breaking his thumb. He swiftly divested the madman of the detonator, chucking it across the table. The Fake Joker snarled punching Batman in the face, and leapt off him to scramble over the metal. The Dark Knight wasted no time latching onto the man's pristine boots and pulling him back across the table. The maniac's nails scraped across the surface as he lost ground in reaching his goal, flipping over instead, he tried to kick the vigilante in the face. Batman dodged the blow, using the Joker's momentary downed position to dash around the side of the table, ready to remove that detonator from the room, the area, completely. He was swooping down to get it when the Fake Joker jumped on his back, slamming them both into the lockers. One of the open doors jammed painfully into Bruce's already bruised ribs and he hissed in pain. The madman slipped off of him, and Batman turned just in time to see the maniac pluck the control off the floor with his uninjured hand. The Dark Knight froze watching the sadistic grin spread across the familiar dolled up scarred face.

"See you in hell Bats." The Fake Joker giggled darkly his thumb coming down on the detonator. Batman was already moving, he rolled to the side and out of the vault. Flipping around he placed both hands on the vault door, using all of his strength he made a last ditched effort to close it, falling sideways as it left his palms. The blast blew the door open, the metal hitting Bruce hard in the upper torso, he flew across the room, his back slamming through a decorative glass wall and sliding across the ground, glass grinding into his muscles through the Kevlar. Heat blasted out of the vault, his vision spotted with dancing lights, consumed by flames money fluttered to the floor in burning ashes. His entire body felt numb, his ears ringing painfully. The light died away and with it his vision, slowly darkness crept up on him. He tried to move, the ringing dying out to silence, his hand slapped against the glass, but made no sound. More glass shattered against the ground, raining to the floor just out of his reach. He spotted his belt several feet away in the cascade of sparkling shards. Two boots landed gracefully near the belt, a gloved hand reaching down plucked it from it's glittering grave. Bruce willed his eyes higher, but the darkness had other plans, drowning out his sight completely, until there was only darkness.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Cliff hanger?! Kinda. Lol. The usual Jazz. Blah blah. I'ma sleep now.


	7. Chapter 7 - This Side Of Life

Another long ass Chapter. I'm pretty damn sure I've got everything in this that I missed in previous chapters. I might go back and give hints. But meh who knows.

Shattered Identities

Chapter 7

This Side of Life

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

The sound was constant, a steady rhythm in his mind, pulling at him. Until it was something he couldn't ignore any longer. It was a high pitched noise he couldn't brush off, it moved with him, through him. His lower body was cold, his breathing painful, each lung full of air sent searing fire through his chest. He could hear that beeping, over and over, steadily, yet some times it sped up, like now as he tried to open his eyes. They felt heavy, leaden down, his eyelashes glued together. It took a few tries, fighting against the onslaught of weakness before his lashes fluttered open. Light stabbed at his irises and he jerked his head away, his neck muscles protesting angrily at the movement. He blinked several times, the world a wash of blurred white, steel, and one green glare. Bruce realized what that beeping was just before it all came into focus. It was his heart rate. The room became crisp and he was surrounded by white. The walls, ceiling, equipment, and sheets all a pristine white, accentuated by metal bindings, bolts and bars.

Several machines sat around him, one angled towards him, glaring green, the steady rate of his heart beat echoing through the room, the little green line dashing across the surface over and over again. He was in the mansion's basement emergency room, he knew because he had hand picked all of the equipment. His heart beat slowed a little at that fact, not that he was entirely pleased with it, but it could be worse. He must have a fractured rib, if the pain in each breath was anything to go by. His right arm was bandaged, he wriggled his fingers with little discomfort. Bending his elbow he was met with the same, sore muscles, but nothing too long lasting. He had a nasty bruise on his left arm, probably from where the vault door had slammed into it. That was the likely culprit for his fractured rib as well, maybe even a concussion, Kevlar could only stop so much.

In the end it beat being caught in the full blast of the explosion. Shuffling his foot out of the blanket drapped over him, his ankle was wrapped up as well, looking pretty swollen and his bullet wounds throbbed without him needing to check them. He probably tore his leg wound open, which meant it would take a few more months to heal. He could live with that. Bruce ignored the pain in his torso, carefully sitting up, the blanket that had been covering his chest slipped down to his waist revealing his shirtless chest. His ribs were bandaged tight, restricting his movement. The rest of his skin looked just as bad as the Joker's had in the car. Speaking of the Joker. Bruce had a job to do. He ripped off the heart monitor dropping it to the floor, the machine zeroed out in an annoying high pitched tone. He was just tearing out the I.V.'s in his arms when the door slammed open rather forcefully. Tim walked in, his features marred in an irritated scowl of disappointment and concern.

"You are not getting out of that bed." Tim commanded going as far as attempting to man handle Gotham's top crime fighter. The teen swiftly closed the distance between them, placing his hands firmly on Bruce's solid shoulders, pressing him back down as hard as he could. Which was actually pretty powerful considering how often the kid worked out. The Detective fell back a few inches from the pressure, pain shooting through his ribs and abs as he resisted the push. Now equally irritated Bruce slammed Tim's arm with his fore arm, knocking the kids hands off his shoulder, he flipped his hand, latching onto the kid's wrist, twisting the teen's arm around and behind Tim's back in one fluid motion. The kid let out a hiss of pain. Knowing Tim could easily get out of the hold, he tossed the teen away from him. His younger partner stumbled, knocking into some medical equipment and the tool tray, plastic covered syringes and a pair of blue gloves clattered to floor. Tim quickly found his footing and straightened the tray before anything more could fall off. His short hair cascading into his face as he froze once the task was done, his muscles tense, his eyes hidden behind shadow. He stood there for a few seconds, unmoving, his jaw muscles flexing, his body tense. He released the tray, straightening up, letting his hands fall to his sides, turning slowly to face Bruce. His baby blue eyes peaking out from under his dark strands, leveling his mentor with a stern, hurt look.

"I know you don't like sitting around," Tim whispered his eyes glassing over, and he gritted his teeth. He stepped forward one hand reaching up to clench the bars surrounding Bruce's bed, his knuckles white from the pressure.

"You always talk about how you don't want to lose us. How you don't want another Jason. Not that, I mean..." The teen let out a frustrated sigh, turning his attention to the floor he took a deep breath, leveling his eyes on his mentor again.

"Look, I never met him, but I'm sure losing him hurt. Just as much. As losing you would. So stay in the fucking bed." Tim demanded pushing away from the bed, intending to make a quick exit. Bruce's hand shot out, grabbing his partner's wrist before he could get away.

"Tim..." Bruce trailed off unsure how to word what he wanted to say.

"Don't curse, it doesn't suit you." He said half-assed, unable to say what he really wanted. That he understood the kid's concerns, what he was saying, how he felt. Tim sighed with a small huff of irritated amusement, a bitter smile pulling at his lips he shook his head at his mentor's stubbornness, his eyes back on the ground. Almost wishing when he looked back it would be different, Bruce would actually open up, be able to say something. Anything.

"Yeah? Don't make me curse, and we wont have to worry about it." Tim replied, his eyes back on the billionaire's, slipping his hand from the man's grasp he folded his arms in defiance. Bruce let a little smile tug at his lips and he reached over, sliding the safety bar down so he could slip off the bed.

"Guess I'll have to start worrying." Bruce shot back throwing his legs over the edge, ignoring the pain that shot through his body with every move.

"Seriously Bruce, just once. Can you not be a stubborn jerk?" The teen asked a frown marring his youthful features, refusing to move out of the man's way. Bruce didn't answer him, pushing to his feet, letting the blanket fall to the floor where it pooled on his bare toes which immediately cooled against the tile floor. Tim's bulky frame still blocked his way, not willing to budge an inch. Bruce took in Tim's angry stare, but he could see the worry hidden in the emotion. Teacher and student. It seemed the kid took more from him then just crime fighting. One of his hands covered his aching ribs, while the other rested on the teen's tense shoulder. Tim's eyes narrowed at the action, immediately suspicious.

"It's been a long night. I'm going to go upstairs, shower, and get some sleep. Sound alright with you doctor?" Bruce asked teasingly giving the kid's shoulder a squeeze. Tim didn't seem phased, still not budging from his spot in front of the man, his eyes however seemed fixed on the bruises littering the elder man's chest.

"No news, no radio, nothing, straight to your room?" Tim demanded unable to hold back his tinge of hope that the man would actually comply. The billionaire would love to accept but he needed to know a few things first.

"What happened to the hostages?" Bruce needed to know before he could make any promises to the teen.

"They're safe. The police found them. Nice work." His partner replied sounding unhappy with Bruce's curiosity.

"The Joker?" He added and the teen shook his head.

"No sign." Bruce nodded in agreement, letting his hand fall from the teen's well toned shoulder.

"Fine. I promise, no television, no radio, just a shower, and sleep." They stared each other down for a full minute, baby blue eyes drilling into stormy blue. Finally Tim shifted out of the way, scooting the medical tray away from them. Bruce nodded his head in appreciation, making his way across the cold ground and out the open door, he stopped for a second just outside the door, turning his attention back to the teen.

"Just for tonight." He tacked on with a small smirk, continuing forward, "Tomorrow night we're back on the streets."

"Of course." Tim seethed his eyes narrowing in disappointment again, making his way out of the room as well, his boots making a distinct noise against the carpeted hall. Bruce let himself chuckle a little at the kid's grumpiness. Alfred turned the corner, their eyes met, and the billionaire knew he was in for a fight. He was seriously too tired for this.

"Oh dear." Alfred breathed, stalking purposefully towards the secret vigilante.

"Alfred I'm fine." Bruce stated dodging as best as he could out of the man's inquisitive hands.

"No you're not fine. When Tim brought you in you were a wreck. A fractured rib, bruises everywhere. You shouldn't even be walking on that ankle of yours. I understand I might not have raised you as I should have Master Bruce, but I am not going to – ."

"Alfred."

" – sit here and let you make a mess of yourself simply because you are a stubborn man child."

"Alfred."

"You're welcome by the way." Tim added in when his name was mentioned, walking leisurely past the pair, just as fed up with Bruce's stubbornness as Alfred was. The billionaire ground his teeth in irritation, the lack of sleep getting to his nerves faster then normal.

"You weren't supposed to be there, in the first place." Bruce snapped unnecessarily, his body sending waves of pain at him, every ache in his body adding to his annoyance.

"Yeah?! Well next time I'll just hang around out side, watch you pass out and get dragged away by the police! To be strung up as some poor little orphan boy gone crazy, revenging his parents by playing Bat in a stupid suit! A little you're welcome isn't that hard!" The teen exclaimed rounding back on his mentor, swiftly closing the distance between the them. He stopped just in front of him, his shoulders squared, his feet apart ready for this fight.

"Watch it, _Robin_. Or do you not follow me around willingly, fighting by this old man, dressed up in a Bat suit?" Bruce hissed back quietly using his height to tower over the kid despite his injuries.

"Boys." Alfred said dryly, this was not his intention when confronting his old charge, why was everyone in this house such a loose cannon these days?

"No! I don't!" Tim shouted throwing his arms out in exasperation, before pocking a strong finger into Bruce's bruised chest, "Because you wont let me follow you anywhere!" The billionaire swatted the hand away, irritated that the poke had even hurt.

"Well in that case, maybe we should make you a puppy suit." Bruce growled out darkly, "you can be Golden Retriever Boy, Batman's best bud." Tim scoffed scowling up at the secret vigilante.

"Yeah! Sounds like a great idea. Maybe I could finally back you up for once!" Tim hissed, taking a step forward getting into Bruce's personal space.

"BOYS!" Alfred exclaimed, demanding their attention. Bruce backed down, one hand subconsciously holding his ribs as he relaxed his spine. The Detective was mad, but it wasn't at Robin. It was at whoever was causing this chaos, it was the Joker who had gotten away yet again. It was not being able to save the two sobs forced into the Joker's madness. Tim pivoted while Bruce realized this, immediately stalking away, his body tense, not throwing his mentor a second glance. 

"Tim." Bruce called after him softly, his voice barely carrying down the hall. Tim's shoulder's tensed farther, his hands clenching into fists.

"Tim! Robin!" Bruce tried again, louder this time, taking a few painful steps towards the kid. Tim lifted one hand, flipping his mentor off just as he turned the next corner. Bruce sighed tiredly, unwilling to meet Alfred's disappointed gaze.

"Reminds me of you sir." The old man muttered, turning to staring after the boy.

"I like to think I had more manners." Gotham's richest orphan grunted back, starting up the painful limping journey to his room.

"You can think that, but you, still don't." Alfred replied with a bit of amusement, trying to lighten the mood.

"Thanks." Bruce replied dryly, noticing his father figure walking along with him. "Look I'm not going anywhere tonight. I'm fine."

"You're never fine Master Bruce." Alfred stated, just as uneasy with the purple bruises blooming across his old charge's chest as Tim had been. Bruce followed his gaze to his own muscled chest, taking in the purple splotches. They were pretty bad, maybe even worse then the Joker's. Speaking of the Joker, he had his work cut out for him tomorrow.

"We're not doing this tonight." The billionaire stated tiredly, limping farther down the hall, the elevator just around the corner. Alfred let out a dramatic sigh, watching the man hobble down the hall, trying to look prideful, while really just looking pitiful.

"At least, allow me to check your bullet wound?" Alfred tried hopelessly, not even bothering to follow Bruce down the hallway, already knowing the answer.

"I've got it. Goodnight Alfred." Bruce called back to him with a small wave of a hand, turning the corner just as Alfred replied.

"Goodnight Master Bruce." Alfred called back to him, already making his own way to the now empty room, getting it ready for the next time Bruce visited it. As the playboy waited for the elevator to come back down, he realized that he was actually pretty lucky Robin was the one that found him and before the police got in.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The knocks where steady and forceful, rattling Tim's door. The teen had half a mind to leave the man out there, but couldn't quite do it after imagining his mentor standing pitifully in the cold corridors of the mansion, his injuries wearing him down every second. He kicked his covers off, padding quietly to the door. He cracked it open, staring out at his pale adoptive father who was looking anywhere but at him. They stood in silence for a little bit longer and Tim was ready to shut the door and actually get some sleep.

"Tim." Bruce tried, unsure what he could really say, I'm sorry? I'm sorry never really meant anything, not to him. He couldn't see how it could help anyone else. All he had ever heard when his parents had died was I'm sorry. The statement was always dry, empty. It didn't mean anything. So what do you say? What else could be said? Besides those empty words. Tim sighed letting his head rest against the ornate door frame.

"Look I get it." Tim stated stepping back to close the door, Bruce stopped him with a powerful hand on the wood forcing the door back open.

"It's. Not healthy to go to sleep angry." The billionaire stated awkwardly, meeting baby blue eyes. Tim's lips curled into a smile and he licked his lips slowly letting the hilarity of the situation wash over him.

"Apology accepted." Tim stated, pulling the door closed again, Bruce's eyes widened his hand slipping away from the door, not wanting another injury that night. The teen paused the door almost closed, and he turned back, opening it up again, he gazed up at his adoptive father in silence for a few seconds, reading his stormy blue eyes.

"And... I love you too." The teen turned away and the door shut with a final click. Bruce stared at the wood grains for a few shocked seconds, before he sighed, letting his head rest against the closed door. He was a terrible father. Adoptive or not. He didn't understand why he kept trying. Dick, Todd, Tim. They could have had real homes. He could have made sure they went to good families. Checked in on them, watched their healthy progress into adults. How was he supposed to raise children when he had never had parents, could barely remember their faces. Alfred was a father figure, yes, but had never been a father. He was always Master Bruce. His word, money, decisions, choices, they were always final. Maybe if he had let them go, hadn't thought it was a better life for them, hadn't let them decide for themselves that this was the life –

"Bruce! Go to bed! Now." Tim's voice demanded through the door with exasperation, the light in his room clicking off. The billionaire smiled, pushing away from the door. Tim was probably more adult then he was to be honest. It didn't matter. Dick and Todd were in the past. Dick had turned out perfectly fine, a little on the vigilante side, but he's a good guy and Tim is an amazing kid, brilliant enough to maybe out rival him one day. Not only that but Tim had chosen this, chased it. So, Bruce was a shit father, yet, Tim complained more about him being a shit partner. He supposed he should tell the boy it wasn't his fault he didn't trust him, was afraid to unleash him completely, then again the kid probably already knew the reason and it act still pissed him off.

"Night Tim." Bruce called through the door, ready to hobble his way to his room.

"Night Bruce. You know its almost day light right?" Tim shot back, the edges of sleep already audible in his voice. Bruce stood by the door a few seconds longer, he needed to say it, he should say it. He needed to hear it. He couldn't keep disappointing the kid, it was something so simple.

"Thank you." Bruce stated, barely above a whisper, but the house was quiet and he heard a shifting from inside the room. It took a full minute but he finally got a reply.

"Thank you." Echoed back to him from inside the door, barely audible but he still heard it. Smiling Bruce pushed away from the door. There, that wasn't that hard was it?

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Bruce didn't bother turning on the light as he entered his enormous bedroom, treading the well known path to the bathroom. Into the room and around the coffee table, he slipped inside, finally flipping on a light switch. He shuffled over the freezing tiles, stopping in front of the full length mirror. He took in his mused, sweat greased hair. His unusually pale skin, probably from the pain he was feeling, since he hadn't lost much blood. He turned his head taking in the scratches that ran along the left side of his face. He leaned in closer to the mirror noticing that Alfred had reapplied disinfectant to the cuts. He'd have to do that again when he got out of the shower, it looked like infection had already started taking a hold regardless of their efforts. He leaned away from the mirror, his body protesting painfully, then he leaned back in taking in the nasty bruise on the left side of his jaw, then he recalled the vault door hit that too.

He straightened up, it also his his left collar bone, shoulder, down his torso, and he shimmied his boxers off onto the floor, his left hip. All of which sported still blossoming bruises not even close to their healing stage. He reached up unwinding his fractured ribs with stifled grunts of pain. His ribs looked worse then the rest of his bruises which was saying something. He let the bandage pool on the floor, running a hand down his damaged muscles, wincing at the pain. At least his little Bruce escaped the vault door's wrath, hanging limply where it should be. The process of leaning into the mirror and back against had sent throbs of pain through his back, he wasn't sure what type of damage he had back there, but it was probably pretty bad. He had fallen almost two stories, and was also thrown across a glass covered floor by a vault door propelled by TNT. He turned around keeping his head on the mirror and there they were, bruises just like the rest of his body, light gouges where the glass had pressed into the Kevlar enough to damage the skin. Needless to say he looked like a train wreck, which meant he wouldn't be going on any playboy outings any time soon. It wasn't often things actually left marks on him he couldn't explain, but it seemed like the all day the hands of fate had been against him. Playing with him, like he hadn't already had a shitty month. Sighing Bruce unwrapped the rest of his wounds, the bullet grazes on his arm and leg, the full fledged hole in his thigh and his swollen ankle. The bandage on his arm revealed a slightly swollen wrist, and a few light bruises, the usual on any normal night. He took one last look at his well toned, bruised and battered body before he finally padded over to the large triple head shower. Turning the water on, he stepped into the heated water, thankful for the new installation of the latest top notch water system. He let the water run against his sore skin for a few minutes before the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with him. Sighing he reached for the shampoo.

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

The shower was shorter then he wanted it to be, but he wasn't sure he wanted to stay standing any longer then he had to. Stepping out he quickly dried off taking his time to disinfect and re-bandage his throbbing wounds, slipping on some boxers from one of the drawers. He didn't bother putting away the supplied as he tiredly stumbled out of the bathroom. Flipping the light off behind him, he didn't bother turning another one on as he made his way to the bed, easily avoiding the coffee table on his way, despite the lack of light. The curtains on his windows always closed when he left the room. Flopping onto his silky three thousand dollar comforter he sighed in relief, finally letting himself relax. He threw his hands out on either side of him, sighing again in relief, he tried to dredge up enough energy to get into the sheets. Then he noticed something, his heart beat sped up, his eyes snapping open. He wasn't quite sure so he flexed his fingers, coming away with the same feel. Something thick and wet smeared the back of his hand. He flipped his palm down patting the comforter and was met with the same substance. Panicked, Bruce bolted up turning on the over head lights to his bed. Then he froze, all of the breath leaving his lungs, unable to do anything more then stare in horror at the sight. Then he was out of the bed, dashing to the intercom that went throughout the house, shouting for Alfred.

"The medical room sir." Was the man's answer and Bruce buzzed in, refusing to get Tim involved in this.

"I need you to bring a stretcher up here, O negative blood pack, IV leave the door open." He exhaled quickly into the mic, his eyes still glued to his bed.

"O negative sir?"

"Just do it." Bruce growled, his finger slipping off the intercom leaving a smear of crimson. He flipped the rooms full lights on, and blinked a few times, just to make sure he wasn't delusional. Then he was dashing around the bed, to the opposite side. He tore the rest of the covers off the bed, letting them slide to the ground, revealing the full image to him, he didn't take much time taking it in, his hand moving forward, sliding in thick crimson as he pressed his weight downward. The man was crazy, he was fucking crazy, god he was insane, was all that the billionaire could think as warm blood glided against his fingers, slipping through the cracks and onto the back of his hands. A pale body lay on his expensive silken sheets, blood slowly soaking into the white fabric, the comforter. Spreading out like a blooming flower around the body. Tattered blood stained clothing soaked in the crimson renewing any old stain they had obtained. A pale face was tilted towards Bruce, their normally rosy lips tinting blue, green eyes gazed sightless into space, a glaze creeping over them. Matted green hair splayed out against the pillow, plastering to the pale sweat soaked skin. Bruce pressed harder against the bullet wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood. The chest beneath his hands barely twitched with each inhale of breath.

How long had be been here? What was he doing here? Why was he here of all places? It took longer then Bruce wanted for Alfred to arrive, but the man instantly went to work, no questions asked regardless of how absurd the situation was. They moved the bloody body onto a stretcher. Bruce instantly ripping open one of the packages, slipping in the needle needed for blood transfusions, as Alfred swiftly carted the wounded male out of the room, the billionaire easily keeping stride with the running man as they twisted through the mansion. The elevator took longer then it should have, Bruce reapplying pressure as they slowly waited for the ping, and then the doors to open. They rushed out immediately, before the doors were completely parted. Bruce easily transferred the body onto the operating table. Getting out of Alfred's way as the old man darted around the room, shouting orders at the playboy. Bruce made quick work cutting off the tattered Arkham uniform, Alfred sterilizing his tools as swiftly as possible.

"He's been shot."

"Thank you for that observation. Luckily, It seems to have gone straight through, we don't have to find the bullet, but I'm going to need you to flip him over in a minute, other than that, stay out of my way unless I tell you to." Alfred stated steadily, going to work on the slipping male. Bruce attached the heart monitor, watching it slowly creep across the screen before repeating the process, he moved out of the man's way, only jumping in to help when the man required his assistance.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The room was silent except for the slow beeping of the heart monitor, their patient sleeping in the bed Bruce had occupied not even two hours ago. Bruce stood to the side of the bed staring down at it's occupant.

"Well I hope your happy. I have offically saved a lunatic. Enjoy." Alfred stated unhappily, shutting off the sink after washing his hands. Bruce couldn't dredge up enough pride in the action to say thank you, all he could do was nod his head slowly, as the man left the room. Bruce fell against the wall, letting himself slid to the floor in exhaustion, the adrenaline finally wearing off. He tilted his head back resting it against the white surface, closing his eyes, just for a second.

For the second time in the last twenty four hours, he was awoken by the steady beeping of a heart monitor, except this time it wasn't his. Taking in a deep breath he regretted it when his ribs complained fiercely against the action. One hand came up to hold his aching ribs, his eyes snapping open to take in his surroundings. He was still in the makeshift operating room, the sterile white of his surroundings contrasted starkly with the small puddles of blood drying on the floor, one of his bare feet rested in a crimson pool. He frowned holding back a shiver as chills wracked his body, the room was freezing. His toes and finger's icy cold, his limbs moved stiffly as he straightened his spine, sliding into an upright position against the wall. He pulled his feet in, ignoring the trail of blood the action left across the floor. Closing his eyes he left his head fall forward.

He was almost surprised that Alfred hadn't woken him up, given him a blanket, or whatever it was that concerned people do. Then again he had pushed the man rather hard tonight. First he, himself, is carted in littered with wounds. Then he needs the retired male to save an insane criminal that has probably killed a hundred times more people then Alfred ever had, and that was during a war. The Joker simply did it for fun. Bruce's eyes eased open at the morbid thought, just barely noticing how close the madman's bed was. A pale hand hung limply over the edge, just in his line of sight as he slumped against the wall tiredly. Without thinking the billionaire reached forward taking a hold of that lifeless appendage, noticing that it was just as cold as his own freezing fingers. Lifting it he shifted the blankets a little, slipping the hand underneath. He released it, but let his own hand rest against the bedding as he dredged up enough energy to stand up, the steady rhythm of the Joker's heart monitor and the release of air through his respiratory machine the only sound in the room.

Bruce's hand gripped the side of the bed ready to pull his aching body off the floor, but he stopped, his eyes catching something. Underneath the bed, spattered in blood was a slightly crumpled paper, the edges stained in dried blood. The billionaire's hand slipped off the bed, leaning forward he grunted in pain at the pressure on his ribs as he reached for the paper. He snatched it up quickly, straightening out his torso as calmly as possible, trying to avoid causing any harm in the process. He slowly turned the paper over in his hands, a sinking feeling settling over him, then he froze taking in its contents. It was a picture, he picture. The one the Joker had snatched from Vale, something that seemed like ages ago. Bruce sat on the floor at the Christmas gala, the Joker being attended to by the paramedics. The playboy's head was tilted back, the line of his neck exposed blood trailing down his throat. His eyes closed, his face, arms, body relaxed despite the chaos that reigned around him. Bruce had been taking a steadying breath, a moment to recompose, it was barely a moment, but they had captured it.

Gazing at the picture, even he could see Joker's twisted vision of it. To the Joker, Bruce was probably secretly revealing in the crimson that covered his body, soaked into his clothes, bathed his skin. The Joker saw potential in him, saw a beautiful blood soaked angel begging to be invited into the Joker's unique brand of insanity. Bruce's shoulder's slumped his hand's falling uselessly into his lap, taking the picture with them. He continued staring at it, the realization of the photo's meaning leaving a hopeless bitter taste in his mouth. There was nothing he could have done, nothing short of killing himself that would stop the Joker's sick fascination with Bruce Wayne, with him. The trip to Arkham had been pointless. Buying the asylum, the deaths that followed, all of the last twenty four hours, was pointless. The Joker would have gotten out, he always does, especially when he wants something. Needs something. That need was currently him.

Anger curled in Bruce's stomach and he crumpled the picture in one fist, lifting it up to rest against the bed he leaned forward, resting his head against his arm. He didn't know what to do, sure people had discovered his identity before, ones that even wanted to kill him at all costs, but none of them wanted him alive and well, wanted him to join in on their twisted sense of fun at all costs, people gave up, The maniac didn't. None of them were the Joker. How was he supposed to deal with this? He had always believed the Joker would never discover his identity, simply because the man didn't want to know. If he had wanted to know, he would have known by now, hell the maniac probably already knew. Just didn't want to admit it. Didn't want to change the game or some other sick reason. Bruce shook his head a little, letting out a frustrated noise at the back of his throat. He stopped suddenly, his eyes narrowing, finding something else, a smudge of crimson where it shouldn't be was laying in the corner of the room, blood smeared and alone, away from all of the puddles of blood. Bruce stood up ignoring how his muscles protested greatly against the action, his bruises taking every chance to remind him of their presence.

He popped his neck bones, pulling out any kinks from his terrible sleeping position before he made his way around the bed and behind some equipment. As the object came into view his stomach sank again, this time a retching horror clawed at his insides as he neared it. Bending down he was oblivious to his pain as he picked up the key card, the crumpled picture fluttering to the ground. It was the key card, the one he had stolen from the orderly at Arkham. The one he had forgotten about. The key card that let him through all of the security gates except maximum security. He was the reason the Joker had escaped. All of this was his fault. He was literally the reason the Joker was free right now. He had given the man everything he had needed. A way out of maximum security, a way off the compound unhindered. Could this day get any worse, he questioned bitterly gritting his teeth. How could he have forgotten about it? Something so crucial? Did that visit really rile him up so much that it had slipped his mind? Bruce was getting sloppy and he didn't know what to do about it, wasn't sure how to fix it. Pay more attention? It was hard when the Joker required all of it. Bruce looked up at the bed, almost not wanting to see its occupant.

Near the back of the bed an IV dripped steadily, ensuring that the Joker wouldn't be awake any time soon. Not that he should be awake after nearly bleeding out all over Bruce's bedroom. The playboy walked around the equipment and up to the bed, running a hand along the bed's guard rail, a disappointed frown marring his lips. He let his eyes settle on the man, the monster, laying in the bed. Blankets were pulled up to the man's chin, his green hair was blood soaked, caked and plastered to his pale forehead. An oxygen mask covered most of the man's smiling scars leaving him looking surprisingly human. His long lashes rested gently against his grime covered skin, his brows relaxed in the drug induced slumber. His chest rising and falling slowly underneath the blankets. Without the scars and the insanity dancing in his eyes, the man looked pretty harmless. Peaceful, even if it was only while he slept.

Which was what Bruce needed to do. Needed to get some sleep, he decided after a few minutes of simply staring at the man. His mind tired of running through all of the nights events. Real sleep, not passing out on the cold hard floor. He needed this day to be over. He needed time to think, time to fix things. Nothing would be done today, though. The sun would be coming up, there was nothing Bruce Wayne could fix. Not really, and Batman didn't journey out during the day. Opening some drawers he brought out another packet of blood, switching out the packs. He shifted away from the bed, making his way out of the room, scowling in irritation when he stepped in some blood. Taking a deep steadying breath he opened the door, then he turned back around, checking the IV one last time, just to make sure. The last thing he needed was to wake up to the rest of the house hold murdered in their sleep. He closed the door behind him, moving to the potted plant a few feet away he pulled out a hidden key, locking the door, just to be safe, that that it would hold the man for long. He put it back stiffly making his way down the hallway, hoping he wouldn't run into anyone. He wasn't in the chatting mood. Not at all.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

He finally made it to his bedroom, ready to crash he opened the door, shuffling over to the bed, the lights in the room still on. Until he realized that his sheets were still covered in the Joker's blood, the dulling crimson standing out just as startlingly as it did on the floor down stairs. Sighing he ran a hand through his hair, then regretted the decision, he still hadn't washed them, dried blood flaked off into his dark strands. Scowling he stared down at them, the browning substance caked onto his skin, under his fingernails. With another sigh he closed his eyes dragging up some more strength. He shuffled over to the bathroom, grabbing the remote off the coffee table on his way, he flipped on the television. He didn't really listen to it much, slipping into the bathroom he turned on the faucet, and doused his hands with a liberal amount of soap, scrubbing away at the blood. Suddenly his hands froze, steam rose from the sink, fogging up the lower section of the mirror. He tilted his head towards the bedroom, actually listening now. His eyes widened and he quickly shut the faucet off, dashing out of the bathroom and into the bedroom he snatched the remote back off the table, turning up the volume, disbelief flooding him at the headline. He swallowed hard, listening to the anchor.

"Again, it appears these criminal acts have been committed by none other than Bruce Wayne. The police are currently on the look out for Gotham's owner of Wayne enterprises for the rape of two woman and the attempted kidnapping of a little girl," Bruce fell back onto the bed, his eyes glued to the screen, his picture plastered all over the place.

"Their names will remain unknown for the time being, but we can tell you that they seem to be recovering well. All of this happened late last night, our sources say the calls to the police station happened around three to five in the morning. We have been informed that the GCPD are doing all they can to get to the bottom of these crimes. It has been confirmed that Bruce Wayne is the leading suspect in – ."

Bruce fell back into the bed, his back hitting the plush comforter, letting all of the air leave his lungs in a long drawn out sigh. What the fuck was going on? It was barely seven in the morning. He had caught maybe an hour and a half of painful sleep on the cold floor. It wasn't possible for him to be the main suspect. It just wasn't. He couldn't be two places at once, Bruce slowly sat up, or could he? His mind cranked through information, working as fast as it could. There was one person, who looked like him. Hush. He had escaped Arkham City as Bruce Wayne, but what was he trying to do? Why go through all the trouble just to discredit the billionaire? The man now looked like Bruce, what could he possibly gain from ruining his own image. Something didn't add up here. Something was missing. Something important and Bruce was afraid it was going to hit him harder then expected. It was one thing to have the police after Batman, it was another to have his daytime disguise compromised, where he lived, his money, assets, jets, contacts, well maybe not all of his contacts. He could still pull some strings, but only the ones Batman had made. He stood up again, stalking across the room he snatched one of his many cellphone out of the top drawer of his dresser. He typed in a phone number and waited.

"Hello?" Barbra's sleep riddled voice answered on the fourth ring, confusion in her tone.

"Barbra." Bruce said unable to keep the exhaustion, and apology, out of his own.

"Bruce? Hey whats up? I heard you were at home, resting up and stuff. Are you okay? Robin said you looked pretty nasty."

"I'm fine." Then he paused turning his attention back to the television.

"Well, not entirely." He added on, "Have you seen the news? The police are after me. I need you to find out what they know, I need to know whats going on. I'd do it myself but,"

"I'm faster and more efficient and you sound like crap. Have you slept yet? Aren't they always after Batman?"

"Not really. And this time its not, Batman. Its Bruce Wayne."

"What? Look don't worry about it, I'm on it." Barbra said in a rush, obviously shocked at the revelation.

"Thank you." Bruce sighed leaning against the dresser.

"Wow you really are tired. You're welcome. Give me a few minutes and I'll get back to you."

"Wait." Bruce stated before Barbra could hang up. "I was a little tied up at the clock tower. I need you to hack the GCPD and put in a request for blood tests on the dead Joker bodies. Speaking of which I'm assuming they're keeping that quiet." The billionaire stated sating an itch on his arm, he held the phone with his shoulder, his eyes still glued to the television.

"You know they are. Could you imagine Gotham's reaction to more then one Joker running around?Look. Don't worry about it. The test request is... already done. So, again. I'll let you know when I have some answers. Get some rest Bruce." Barbra hung up with that and Bruce went to pocket the phone, only to realize he was still in his underwear. His blood soaked underwear. His entire body had smudges of blood on it, reminding him acutely of that bloody day barely a week ago. The blood didn't matter though, he needed to get this figured out before the police came – the door bell rang through out the house. Surprised, Bruce rushed over to his com, switching on the screen portion, he tapped the front door's tile. Two police officers stood near the entrance, Commissioner Gordon at the front looking stern and extremely concerned. Maybe that shower wouldn't have to wait after all. The last thing he needed was to greet the police covered in blood. Bruce made his way quickly across the room, throwing off his stained underwear he jumped into the shower. He was done within minutes barely taking the time to properly rinse. He dried off quickly ignoring how every move he made hurt worse then before, or how unattractive his limping was.

He ignored the bruises glaring at him in the slightly fogged mirror but stopped short at the reflection of his face, his eyes widening, all the blood leaving his cheeks. The scratch marks lined the side of his face, painfully obvious to anyone who saw him. Scratch marks, made by nails. Bruce turned away from the mirror leaning back against the bathroom counter. He closed his eyes tilting his head back, he couldn't meet the police face to face. This was going to look bad either way, but at least with him not showing himself he can remain only a suspect and not the perpetrator. Growling Bruce slammed a fist against the counter, how the fuck did Bruce Wayne, he, rape someone. Regardless of who they were. He was voted most attractive man for the last five years and counting and he was a fucking billionaire for gods sake. He didn't need to resort to rape. Ever. Pushing off of the counter he stalked back into the bedroom, trying to ignore the television yet unable to truly tune it out.

"Speculations are rising that maybe Bruce's encounter with the Joker didn't leave him entirely intact. Many now believe that maybe madness is indeed contagious with the recent – ." Of course. The masses always found some reason for the things people did. Bruce switched the screen input on his main televison, flicking to the camera of Alfred speaking with the police in the greeting room. The billionaire moved over to his dresser pulling out a pair of boxers and slipping them on, his eyes never leaving the police's interactions. He was just walking backwards, towards his walk in closet, his eyes still trained on the screen, when Gordon looked startled, pulling out his cellphone. The old man flipped the even older device open, the frown on his face deepening as he listened to the other end. Bruce walked back towards the screen trying to make out their lip movements, it was frustrating but he didn't regret not installing microphones, regardless of how much he wanted to listen in. Anything picked up by the microphones from outside the manor could be catastrophic for his identity, it wasn't worth the risk. Gordon seemed to be making double checking the information he had just received, while the rest of the group stared at him, just as confused as Bruce was. Then the Commissioner hung up the phone and turned back to Alfred, laying a supportive hand on the old man's rigid shoulder. Words were exchanged, Alfred looking adamant about something, and the police left the house, Bruce switched cameras, they drove away, barely sparing a glance back at the house. Alfred immediately turned on his heels as they disappeared and Bruce knew where he was going. He switched the news back on, and took a minute to glare at the headlines before remembering he was still half naked. He was just standing up when the door opened and Alfred stalked inside. Bruce stood up quickly, crossing the distance between them.

"What did they say? What happened?"

"Apparently you're a wanted criminal, but I see you've already noticed that." Alfred stated, nodding towards the news.

"Yeah, apparently. Why did they leave?" The playboy asked in confusion.

"You've been apprehended." Alfred stated casually, moving around Bruce's well toned body.

"What?" Bruce asked turning with the man, watching his father figure start to tear the bedding off the mattress.

"What are you doing? Just leave it." Bruce added on stepping forward and Alfred placed a hand against his firm chest, stopping him.

"You look like shit, Master Bruce. I'm not going to sit around and let you just waste away to sleep deprivation, the guest bedroom across the hall has been fixed up for you. I'm going to take care of this. And you. Are going to sleep."

"What do you mean I was arrested? You need just as much sleep as I do right now. And stop." Bruce stated, tugging the bloody sheets from the man's hands.

"I don't know. The Commissioner simply got a call, saying that you were arrested and on your way to the station."

"How is that possible – ." Bruce trailed off turning towards the television as the news anchor's tone changed.

"This just in, Bruce Wayne has been arrested and is now in custody at the Gotham CPD. We will await further information, and will keep you updated with all the new facts. Apparently the billionaire was found wondering the narrows, helplessly drunk."

"I need to get to the bottom of this."

"Only time will get to the bottom of this. You need sleep." Alfred insisted, gripping the larger male by the shoulders he turned him around pushing him towards the door.

"This can't wait." Bruce growled out, turning his head back towards the old man.

"It can, and it will." Alfred insisted, pushing the male harder.

"I need to know – ." His cellphone buzzed on the dresser and he rushed to it, answering the call.

"Barbra."

"Hey. I thought I'd call and let you know that, none of this stuff is solid. It seems the GCPD is just as out of the loop about all of this as we are. I'll keep tabs on it for any solid evidence but so far its all speculation and word of mouth. I'll let you know when I get something, or they get something, but you know how the police work. It'll probably be awhile. You should get some rest." Barbra insisted, a worried tone to her voice.

"Fine." Bruce grunted out irritably, but Barbra was right, the Gotham detectives weren't the best and it was daylight. He wouldn't be rushing down there anytime soon. Shutting off the call he brushed past the old man, making his way out of the room, ready to cross the hall. He was done with this day and it seemed there wasn't much he could do in the mean time. He stopped across the hall, his hand on the door. Turning around he walked back into his bedroom.

"Alfred." Bruce stated, getting the man's attention, Alfred simply hummed in acknowledgment as he continued stripping his bed, revealing just how much blood the Joker had lost. The mattress was completely ruined.

"Don't tell Robin." Bruce asked, then realized he should have specified.

"He's going to find out." Was Alfred reply, the man not even looking from his work.

"Don't tell Robin about the Joker." The billionaire added.

"He's going to find out." His father figure repeated himself, throwing the sheets to the ground.

"I know, but I need time, and I need him to stay away from the man. The later he finds out the better."

"I don't believe that's wise sir."

"Alfred. Please."

"Alright, but I don't like it."

"Duly noted. And thank you."

"Get some sleep Master Bruce." Alfred stated watching his charge turn around and enter the guest room without a backward glane.

Bruce thought sleep wouldn't be easy, but he was wrong. His mind blacked out the second he placed his head against the pillows, barely getting the sheets onto his bruised torso.

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

Sun glared through a crack in the open curtains gouging into his eyelids in a rude wake up call. He attempted to throw an arm over his eyes, blocking out the sun, but it was just enough time in the waking world for his brain to kick in. Reminding him of the events of last night, of the Joker, the copies, his failures, the destruction of his daytime self and there was no chance he was falling back asleep. He shifted slowly out of bed his muscles even more stiff then they were the day before, and he took a few minutes to stretch them out, working them gently, letting the muscles slide beneath his skin. He avoided moving his ribs as much as possible, but wasn't doing a very good job. His stomach gave a loud growl informing him just how long ago it was he had eaten. Scratching the back of his head, he also realized what a mess his hair was. He shouldn't have slept on it while it was wet, but given the option to blow dry it he probably would have just fallen asleep regardless. He attempted to flatten it out as he left the guest room, taking a glance towards his closed bedroom he didn't feel up to getting dressed right now, but that didn't matter he needed to be ready for the day. Ready for whatever came up, god knows something would come up. Walking into his room the first thing his eyes met was the brown stain on his mattress, flashes of the night before playing through his head. The feel of the Joker's blood on his hands, the way his heart raced in panic at the sight. Then he noticed some clothes on the bed, folded neatly on a clean space. Lifting them up he found a simple gray t-shirt and some black sweat pants. He guessed Alfred was right though, he wasn't going anywhere today. Not with a bounty on his head. Claimed or not his face would still garner attention on the streets.

Slipping on the clothes he decided to complete his entire morning routine. Fifteen minutes later he left his room, making his way down to the kitchen. He needed some food first then he would figure out what had happened while he was asleep. He got halfway down when he realized he had forgotten the phone he had called Barbra on, then decided against going back for it. He'd call her after he ate as well. He could hear someone in the kitchen before he reached the door, slipping inside as quietly as possible he found Tim riffling through the cupboards for a snack, or breakfast, depending on when the boy had woken up. The kid could really put food away, but that was only because he was still growing, muscle wise if nothing else. The teen should be finished with puberty any year now.

"Good to know you're not as stealthy while injured." Tim stated, pulling down a box of cereal, instantly opening the top, he turned around shoving a hand full of cheerios into his mouth. Honey Nut. Bruce would have to have a chat with Alfred again. Tim noticed Bruce's narrowed eyes and frowned looking down, he realized his mistake with wide eyes. Grumbling in annoyance, the teen grabbed another handful shoving more into his mouth defiantly as he moved away from the counter. Just then the door on the other side of the kitchen swung open and Alfred stepped in.

"Ah, I thought you two would be awake. Master Tim put that away. I will cook you both a real breakfast. God knows you could use it." The butler stated border line sour as he opened drawers and pulled down pans. Bruce closed the distance between them frowning at the old man.

"Alfred." The billionaire stated disappointment in his voice and the man who raised him rolled his eyes.

"They have the same amount of vitamins as the regular ones do." The man stated, bustling over to the fridge.

"That's not the point."

"That is the point. Now sit down and shut up. Master Bruce." Alfred tacked on sarcastically at the end of his sentence, pulling out some eggs and ham.

"No more."

"Of course." The ex-war veteran stated flippantly and it was Bruce's turn to roll his eyes. Giving up the younger of the two left the kitchen entering the casual dinning room he found Tim already lounging in a chair, his boots on the table, he flashed his mentor a lazy grin at the attention. Bruce knocked the boots off and took a seat beside him. He made an attempt for the remote, but Tim lunged forward beating him to it. The kid smiled sweetly sliding the remote across the table into Bruce's hand.

"I'm not that delicate." The elder male muttered grumpily, turning on the television.

"Go spin that tale to someone else." Tim replied haughtily with a hint of exasperation, turning his attention to the television as well. Bruce paused it before the woman could say anything, and Tim's eyes widened at the headlines.

"Does that say what I think it says?" The teen asked no longer slumping back into his chair.

"It appears so, I need to freeze the accounts." Bruce stated in a serious tone, he clicked a button releasing a section of the table in front of him, popping up a computer screen he started typing. Robin reached back over and snatched up the remote, un-pausing the program.

" – has been arrested, the authorities are unsure of what exactly is going on here, and we can't really blame them. I mean, we realize that some people want to be Bruce Wayne but this is ridiculous." The woman anchor stated, a different one from the woman this morning.

"Yeah, this is definitely something that hasn't happened before. I don't think there is much protocol they would be able to follow. I mean how often does two of the same people pop up?" The male replied.

"Both are in custody as we speak, the GCPD are getting to the bottom of this and we will keep you updated, for those of you just joining us, our title may be a bit confusing right now. Last night a string of criminal acts were carried out by supposedly Bruce Wayne himself. Both witnesses and the victims themselves of two rapes and an attempted kidnapping claimed the perpetrator was none other then Bruce Wayne, the owner of Wayne Enterprises and Gotham's leading playboy in social circles. Around seven thirty Wayne was apprehended by the police wandering the Narrows, and just an hour ago Wayne was arrested again! We are unsure whether these are really Bruce Wayne, but they sure do look like him. The GCPD are running blood tests as we speak. This is definitely going to be a story for the books! The victims of these crimes are in reco – ."

"What the fuck." Tim exhaled in shocked awe and Bruce instantly slammed a palm loudly against the counter making the teen jump.

"Language." The billionaire stated, pointing a finger at the teen before going back to typing.

"Language? Seriously?! You're a wanted man and you want to talk about my use of language." Tim snapped slamming both hands onto the table, just as loudly, he leaned towards his mentor, his eyes wide with incredulity. Bruce glanced up at the boy, unable to pass up the opertunity.

"When am I not wanted?" Bruce stated blandly and Tim slumped to the table, his hands carding through his hair, letting his head hit the solid surface once, twice, three times.

"You are really, really irritating sometimes you know that." The teen hissed out, straightening back up and throwing himself back into his chair.

"Tim..." Bruce started, looking up and the kid simply glowered at him.

"Don't. Just don't." The teen scowled, kicking his feet back up onto the table. His mentor rolled his eyes, finishing up the process.

"How is this possible?" Tim asked scoffing at the anchor woman now painting a morbid picture of the attacks.

"I don't know." Bruce muttered back trying to remember all of his assets off the top of his head.

"What are we going to do?" The teen asked quietly, staring at the screen.

"I don't know." Bruce replied again and Tim narrowed his eyes at the man.

"Whats your name?" Tim asked dryly, staring down his mentor, who's eyes hadn't left the computer screen.

"I don't know." The man replied, attempting to hide the smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Tim pulled his feet off the table and leaned forward again. He sat for a few seconds staring his mentor down, trying to figure him out.

"This isn't a game Bruce. This is serious." Tim whispered, worry and concern, fear even, tainting his voice. Bruce looked up from the screen taking in the teen's creased brows and bright eyes. The kid was right. This wasn't a game, but it was easier to handle if he pretended it was. This wasn't someone elses life on the line, it was his own. This was Bruce Wayne, not Batman, this was who he was born as. If he lost Bruce Wayne, could he be Batman? He wouldn't have the funds. Not really. What would he do in the day time? Could he live with being just the vigilante? Existing as just an idea? He used to think he could. That he didn't need anything else. That it was all trivial, but his Robins had changed that view. He didn't want to spend endless days simply fighting for a city he couldn't exist in, couldn't enjoy. He would do it of course, but it wasn't his preference, wasn't what he wanted. Tim's words also reminded him of the insanity sleeping below them. The Joker played games, not Batman.

"You're right." Bruce stated and Tim frowned, slowly sitting back in his seat his baby blue eyes never leaving his mentors as he studied his face.

"Wow this week is fucked up." Tim stated staring at Bruce like he was a three headed monster, or a foreign object, just as the door to the room opened.

"Language." Both Bruce and Alfred stated, the old man maneuvering in a trolley of food. The billionaire just finished locking his assets when Alfred set down the last plate, he clicked the computer screen back into place and pulled the plate closer.

"Thank you Alfred."

"You're welcome sir." The man replied sitting down with them. Bruce didn't realize just how hungry he was until he had taken that first bite. Comfortable silence fell over the table as they all ate, too busy enjoying the food to comment on anything else. Bruce was halfway through his second omelet when the news station pinged in with an urgent announcement.

"This just in! Bruce Wayne steps forward! What appears to be the real Bruce Wayne has just called an impromptu press conference. We are going live now to the event! Now this is live and uncensored so parents be advised." The anchor woman stated, and the screen changed to the conference, what really did look like Bruce stood at the podium, addressing the hordes of reporters.

"It has come to my attention that some men have taken it upon themselves to smear my image. I know I look good but well, they've gone a little far." The spitting image of Bruce Wayne joked on the screen, dressed immaculately in a pressed high dollar suit. The camera moved a little getting a better angle of the billionaire's smiling face, which turned serious.

"Now I want to say that I was not anywhere near those crimes last night, I have a lovely alibi," The fake Wayne gestured to a beautiful woman standing just off to the side. "and an entire club to back me up. I will be willing to subject myself to a blood test. I have in no way harmed anyone one way – ."

"Hush." Bruce growled out, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his fork, the other hand's nails digging into his skin.

"Wait." Tim stated tearing his attention from the screen.

"You mean that guy that got away in Arkham City? The one you've been trying to tracking down?" The teen asked watching his mentor's reaction.

"If he wants to slander your name... why fix it?" Tim asked, and then his eyes widened. Bruce was already a step ahead, shoving the food out of the way he pulled his computer back up.

"He wants your assets?"

"No. I think he wants to be me, which is my assets. So yes." Bruce stated, typing code furiously into the computer. He hacked into one of the lower scale banks he used checking on the one thing that would unfreeze his accounts. His blood. Bruce cursed when he found it. It wasn't his DNA on record any longer, it was Hush's. Trying a few more databases he found the same result. His own DNA wiped from the system.

"What are you going to do?" Tim questioned, turning his stunned attention back to the man on the television.

"The one thing I can do." Bruce replied combing quickly through his assets again.

"Who are you going to use?" The teen asked, turning his attention towards Alfred, the obvious candidate.

"You." Bruce grunted, his attention on his task.

"Really?" The kid asked surprised and a little honored, but knew that wasn't the best choice.

"Hush isn't stupid, he would have known I would use Alfred as my backup asset holder. He would have gone through the means to procure a way around that, but you. He might not expect you."

"You want to risk that?" Tim pressed his brows furrowed in concentration as well.

"Not really." Bruce muttered, but it was the best course of action.

"Use Oracle."

"What?" Bruce looked up.

"No one knows about Barbra. They wouldn't expect it and you know she wont run with your money. You buy her everything she could possibly want and she believes in you. In what you do."

"I'm not going to put her in danger." The billionaire muttered turning back to his work.

"Then we'll whisk her away to the Bat Cave. You know the second Gordon finds out he'll have her on lock down, you can show up and insist on keeping her safe. Taking her away to – ." Tim trailed off waiting for Bruce to agree.

"The Bat Cave." Bruce indulged him, finishing his sentence. The playboy leaned back in his seat mulling the suggestion over. If he went with that plan he didn't want to risk waiting for Gordon to find out. He could just 'kidnap' her without Gordon knowing, it would worry him sick but then she wouldn't be connected to Batman at all, no that wouldn't work. Why would she be connected to Bruce Wayne? Batman could take her, tell Gordon he was inquired to do so by a friend that was in trouble and it sounded like a just cause. Gordon might buy it, he'd probably come out of it thinking Bruce Wayne knew Batman but that was the worst that could happen. Hopefully. It was better then hoping that Hush didn't have a back up Tim Drake or Dick Grayson hiding somewhere.

"Alright. We'll do it, but you need to go get her soon. Once I change these she needs to be safe, I don't want to take any chances." Bruce decided, backtracking on his work through his assets, he would need to call some people as well.

"Should you really leave her here sir?" Alfred asked taking a bite of his eggs.

"She should be fine." Bruce stated, engrossed in his work.

"Not as fine as she would be without a few additions to the grounds." The old man stated flippantly.

"As long as there is dripping it wont matter." Bruce insisted, then he paused, looking up at Alfred's silence, concern clawing at his insides when the man simply took another bite.

"It is dripping. Right Alfred?"

"It's you're toy sir. I want nothing to do with it." Alfred replied airily, if the old man hated anyone it was the Joker, that much was certain. Bruce just didn't realize how much he disliked the male until now. What time was it? Bruce glanced at a clock, it was nearing five in the afternoon. The IV had been half empty when he had left, he figured Alfred would change it when he awoke, which was normally around ten on their late nights like last night, but if the man didn't. That meant the IV was probably out. Bruce cursed silently turning back to his task. He needed to get this done and get down there to change that IV. The last thing he needed right now was the Joker awake, he doubted the male would be able to go anywhere but he never knew with the madman.

"What is he talking about? What are you talking about? What is going on? Bruce? Bruce. Don't hide stuff from me." Tim warned, standing up from his seat, his jaw set with determination.

"I'll tell you later Tim." Bruce brushed him off, hoping to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal.

"Don't later me! If this is important I need to know." Tim demanded, leaning over the table again.

"Later." Bruce stated again, and the teen's eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

"What if later gets me killed?" Tim whispered, miss-communication was the lead cause for death in police partnerships. They weren't police but they were partners.

"It wont." His mentor insisted and the kid shook his head.

"Whatever." Tim scooted his chair away from the table noisily, stalking out of the room, obviously intending to search every inch of the house.

"Tim! Go get Barbra." Bruce called after him, his tone demanding and dead serious. Tim stopped, turning his head to look over his shoulder he sent Bruce a death glare, then he turned towards the door instead of farther into the house. His boots echoing through the halls as he left. Bruce took a deep breath, unsure how he dealt with so many teens. The billionaire finished up the work of changing his policies to Barbra's name and social security, meanwhile he picked up the phone Alfred placed beside him on his way to clean up the room. Bruce dialed Barbra's number from memory pressing send he moved it between his shoulder, getting back to work.

"Hello?"

"Hey Barbra."

"Hey. You sound better! Have you seen the news?"

"You were supposed to call me."

"I'm not an idiot. You needed sleep." Barbra stated motherly.

"What do you have for me?"

"The coroners sent the blood to the lab, it should be done in a few hours. As you can see from the news there are more then one of you. They're taking blood samples from them as well. Those should be done around the same time, they got precedence of course. I'll keep you updated on the results. So, you have any idea whats going on? Because the police still don't."

"It's Hush."

"The creepy guy from Arkham City?"

"Yeah. The one you said was me going crazy."

"I apologized for that." Barbra whispered, knowing her words had really hit Bruce.

"I know. He's trying to get to my assets, I think he wants to be me."

"Well that's a pretty good guess."

"I've made you the sole owner of all of my things. You're the only one who can unfreeze my accounts. I've sent Tim over to bring you to the Bat Cave."

"Whoa whoa whoa! What did you just say?! Did you just tell me I'm the only means to retrieving your money?"

"Cars, bank accounts, vacation houses, the mansion, stocks, Wayne Enterprises. Everything."

"Wow. I, um, I'm glad you trust me." The girl stated, shock evident in her voice.

"As long as you don't resist coming in it'll remain that way." Bruce joked, still typing away.

"I'm not going to run off with your money." She laughed.

"I know but you're stubborn. So don't be and we wont have a problem." Bruce replied just finishing up the changes.

"Again, I'm not stupid. I'm okay with the added protection. I'll wait for him to get here."

"Sounds good, keep me posted on the blood results, and leave a note for your dad."

"Will do, good luck Bruce." Bruce hung up and immediately his phone started ringing off the hook. He answered every one of them, confirming the changes. As long as the changes went through before they realized what was happening in Gotham he'd be fine. Hell his asset holders better keep them frozen until the entire situation was figured out or he would be switching companies immediately afterwards. As he spoke he made his way towards the lower areas. Brushing off Alfred's concerned questions of his well being. His ankle hurt like a bitch as he continued walking on it, but it seemed the swelling had gone down a tinge or maybe that was just what he would like to think. He really shouldn't be walking on it, but after years of beatings he tended to forget about the wounds. He stood outside of the room finishing up the calls for the next half hour. Finally he hung up the phone and turned to stare at the door. He didn't want to deal with this. Couldn't he just pretend the Joker was still asleep and leave him locked up? No, the room wouldn't hold him and they still had the surgical tools in there. Shit. They still had the surgical tools in the room. Bruce hesitated on opening the door. Then he remembered that the Joker wouldn't kill him, well shouldn't kill him. He had tried before, but would he have really killed him? He didn't have time to debate on the madman's mood swings. The longer he waited the more likely the man would be awake.

Taking a deep breath Bruce opened the door. The room was quiet, the heart rate monitor and respiratory machine the only sound in the room. The Joker was still in the bed, the same position as before, still asleep, but the IV fluid was out and his heart rate was better, but the billionaire couldn't tell if he was awake or not, he appeared asleep. Bruce's shoulders a little slumped in relief as he walked into the room, still on the look out for any surprise attacks from the sleeping male, but hoping for the best. The first thing he did was quietly swipe any tools or syringes the madman could possibly use, which was everything really, and silently placing them outside of the room. Bruce quietly unhooked the IV, switching it out for a new one he retrieved from the cabinet above the sink, keeping one eye on the maniac through the entire process. When he was done, he took a step back, taking in the Joker's disheveled state again. He looked like shit, and the cuts and scrapes on his face were still an angry red, infection setting in. Bruce moved forward gently pulling the blanket away from the madman, letting them fall just below his navel, taking in the blood stained bandages and infected cuts across his bruised chest and stomach. He couldn't just leave the guy with swelling wounds and simply take care of the most important ones. Besides the stench of dirt and blood was getting to Bruce. He didn't want that smell to be what the Joker woke up to. Who knows what it would do to his mood, probably make him happy, and a happy Joker was a homicidal Joker. Bruce moved to the sink, quietly pulling out some rags and a bowl from the cupboard beneath it. He turned back around to watch the IV drip quietly, he brought out his phone checking the time, he would give the drugs ten minutes to pull the maniac back under and ensure he stayed there.

The minutes slowly ticked by, and Bruce spent that time formulating and dismissing plans for bringing down Hush. He had time to figure out a solid course of action. The fake Bruce Wayne wouldn't be able to cause too much damage while he took his time ironing out any kinks. Taking Barbra was a rash action, but it was probably the best course. Hush wasn't an idiot, he would have thought of all of Bruce's possible candidates for unfreezing his accounts, but Batman's were unknown. Even if they weren't, Barbra was in his custody, she would be safe from anything Hush would try to throw her way. Once the ten minutes ticked by Bruce turned back around running hot water into the bowl. He placed the bowl on the now empty tool tray, dipping a rag in the near burning water. He moved next to the bed, watching the Joker's face for any signs of being near consciousness.

There was nothing, no flutter of eyelashes or twitch of muscles, just the even steady breathing and the steady beep of the heat monitor. Slowly Bruce lifted the rag, bringing down onto the madman's forehead carefully, still watching for any reaction, but none came. He drew the cloth down the side of the male's temple ending at the mask's elastic. Clearing the dirt streaked flesh as he went, revealing smooth pale skin beneath it. This close up he could see the blue veins peaking through the light tone, being slowly revealed by the clean water. Bruce swiped over the area a few more times removing what little dirt remained. He rinsed the cloth, cleaning the small cuts he had cleared way for, before moving to the man's forehead. The green hair was grungy and plastered to the man's skin getting in his way, irritated Bruce took the time to wipe the hair back away from the man's face, the oil slicked hair easily sticking to each other in clumps as he slicked them away leaving the man's forehead exposed completely. Rinsing the rag out again, he started cleaning the laugh wrinkled brow, running over the artificially dyed eyebrows, cleaning the dried blood from the fine hairs. Eventually he was forced to turn the Joker's head a few inches to clean the other side of his temple. The man's face moved easily, no changes in his sleeping form indicated the movement awoke him. Relieved Bruce cleaned the other temple and brow, with the upper half of his face done he moved to the man's jawline cleaning the scrapes and dirt there, slowly revealing every single bruise the man had received.

Bruce briefly wondered what the Joker would look like without his scars. Would he be beautiful? Handsome? Pretty? Cute? Average? The angle of his jaw and the slant of his brow pointed more towards the former. His frame was lithe though, he wasn't muscled or broad, so Bruce decided on the first. The Joker had probably been beautiful, stunning even with those sharp eyes and long lashes. Slightly disturbed at his train of thought Bruce moved on to his neck, over the bruises he knew where caused by his own hands and over the man's Adam apple. His neck was pretty clear of any cuts, so Bruce moved to his shoulders, clearing away the dirt. He switched over to the left side of the bed, cleaning a rather nasty looking cut on the Joker's right shoulder that was begging for attention. He worked as quickly as he could, getting halfway down the man's arm when he had to get new water. The male's biceps surprisingly more solid then the playboy had expected, which explained the hidden strength the man seemed to possess. He was cleaning up the man's right wrist, gently wiping the rough abrasions on his skin from the cuffs, when the heart monitor randomly sped up. Bruce's head jerked up to the man's face and froze. His own wrist enclosed suddenly, held in an iron grip. The Joker's lids snapped open and their eyes met. They stared at each other for a full two seconds, Bruce easily reading the Joker's emotions in those spare seconds, the confusion, fear, determination.

Then the hold on his wrist was released, Bruce lunged forward to stop the madman but it was too late, the Joker ripped the IV needle from his arm tossing it to the floor, the heart monitor beeping away at an accelerated speed. The billionaire quickly jerked away, and the madman fell back against the bed, his chest raising and falling with his effort, not even bothering with removing the heart monitor, his energy apparently sapped for the moment. Bruce's back hit the wall, his head turned to the left like he was facing a wild animal, unsure if staring him down was the best method. The Joker's green eyes darted around the room taking in every weapon and escape route he could fine before they fell shut, his head falling back against the pillows, his muscles relaxing. One shaky hand reached up and tore the elastic bands on his mask over his head, specks of dried blood raining onto the sheets and his bandaged chest as he tossed the respiratory mask to the floor to join the IV needle. He smacked his dry lips scowling at the foul taste in his mouth, left from the drugs they had pumped into his system. One grime covered hand lifted up to run down his pale scarred face, ruining the work Bruce had just done in one long pull. The Joker's eyes opened to half mast, leveling glassily onto the billionaire, staring at him, a small loopy smile tugged at his scarred lips.

"Hey there precious." The Joker greeted him, his voice gravel, the last word getting stuck in his throat and he coughed with a grimace.

"How long have I been out?" The madman asked closing his eyes again, holding back a groan of pain. Bruce watched him carefully letting his left temple rest wearily against the wall as he tried to judge the man's mood. So much for one peaceful day of rest.

"Not long enough." The playboy finally muttered when the madman fixed him with an irritated glare, the Joker smiled, letting his head lull to the side, resting against the pillow.

"Well it did take you long enough. I got so tired of waiting." The Joker whispered, his eyes lazily watching the playboy.

"You almost died." Bruce stated incredulously, a frown marring his masculine features. The Joker frowned as well looking around the room, like he was missing something.

"Well, next time you should hurry." The madman stated, almost like it was obviously the correct course of action. Bruce's eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Next time, don't come here." The playboy hissed and The Joker hissed in sympathy glancing down at his feet, which he wiggled under the covers.

"Not much of a choice, love. And I was just, dying, to see you." The madman smirked holding back his weak laughter of amusement.

"Next time die somewhere else." Bruce stated blandly, his face void of emotion. The Joker pouted, turning his attention back to the playboy, who was still basically pressed against the wall.

"But the game isn't over yet." The Joker complained, shifting a little in his place, obviously uncomfortable but too lazy to actually move. Bruce shook his head in disbelief.

"This isn't – ."

"Bruce?!" The door slammed open, Bruce's head jerked around taking in Tim's huffing form in the doorway, the furious look on his face. A small hitch in breath came from the bed, and the heart monitor sped up. Bruce snapped his head back around to find the Joker staring at him, eyes wider then usual, unblinking, his lips parted. His heart rate increased under Bruce's attention. The Joker's eyes slipped to the side of his face and Bruce swallowed hard, his shoulders slumping. He understood. One hand lifted to trail along the scratches on the left side of his face. The scratches the Joker had taken so much time admiring last night. Tim's eyes were just as wide, but he was staring at the madman in the bed.

"You've got to be kidding me." Tim muttered in disbelief and betrayal.

"You're hiding. The Joker in here?! From me?" Tim exclaimed his hands balling in fists as he rounded on his mentor, and partner.

"Not now, Tim." Bruce exhaled, realizing just how horrible this entire situation just turned out to be.

"Then when? Why don't you trust me?" Tim whispered desperately, stepping towards his father figure.

"We'll talk about this in a minute." Bruce stated sternly, his jaw muscles tight, his lips thin, Tim didn't understand the situation yet.

"You heard the man, flit away. Little bird." Bruce gritted his teeth at the Joker's taunting words, and the color drained from Tim's face.

"Later." Bruce stated, shoving the frozen teen out of the room and shutting the door behind him. The playboy stood with his hand on the door, his back to the madman. He knew the Joker wouldn't kill him now, or would he? What if the game was over now? What if it wasn't fun anymore, he wasn't fun? Bruce slowly turned around his eyes trailing to meet those dancing green orbs.

"Now you know." The playboy whispered, his eyes never leaving the madman.

"Kinda hard to miss." The Joker stated slowly, a little irritated disappointment in his tone, his eyes losing their glassy sheen.

"Yet it took you this long. Why is that?" Bruce laughed dryly, letting his hand fall from the door.

"Whats the fun in knowing." The madman asked him with creased brows. Bruce shook his head, unable to believe the man.

"Are you saying you didn't know?" The playboy asked doubtfully, "Or that you didn't, want, to know. I bet you did know. You just didn't want to acknowledge it. Didn't want the fun to end." The Joker raised and eyebrow and they stared at each other in silence for a full minute. The billionaire his head again, this time in confusion.

"Why would the fun end? Why would it matter who I was?" Bruce asked slowly, he had always wanted to know, and the Joker's eyes flashed, his tongue unconsciously licking the side of his mouth. His scars, and the billionaire understood one hand coming up to touch his own brow.

"You wanted me to be like you." Bruce stated, letting his hand fall away.

"Scarred in some way. Imperfect." Bruce whispered walking around the right side of the man's bed, watching green eyes trail away from the playboy.

"Sorry to disappoint." Bruce stated and the Joker simply rolled his eyes, scratching at some dried blood on his arm, that turned out to be one of his own wounds, blood slowly creeping out of the new opening. Bruce cocked his head to the side leaning against one of the stationary machines, crossing his arms. He stood for a few seconds before shaking his head slowly, like he didn't quite believe the Joker's flippant attitude, but then he knew, had always known, and so had the Joker.

"No, there is a reason you left the billionaire playboy, voted most attractive man in Gotham, as the last high class socialite you attacked. It's because you knew. You knew at the ball, before the ball. You knew at Arkham. Is that why you tried to kill me?" Bruce asked quietly, he wanted to know needed to know. He just wanted some insight on the madman he had chased around the city for so long. The Joker rolled his eyes again, tsking in disbelief.

"Oh please, if I tried to kill you, you would know." The Joker insisted, leveling Bruce was a lewd gaze. The billionaire shrugged his shoulders.

"Felt like it." He stated, remembering the look in the Joker's eyes. The desperate need to distinguish Bruce's life.

"Then playboy Bats is a pussy princess." The Joker growled, and Bruce scoffed, reaching out to remove the heart rate monitor, the last thing attached to the man, and the machine skyrocketed, the billionaire froze understanding what that meant. The Joker growled and ripped the thing off himself tossing it to the ground, refusing to look at the man, his face a blank slate. The way he looked in therapy sessions when he didn't want to play with his doctor's psyche. Bruce shut the machine off and walked back over to the bowl of water, picking up a rag he ringed it out.

"What if I am, is the game over then?" The playboy asked curious, as he squeezed the water out of it, he knew he was playing with fire. That the Joker wasn't someone you baited, but he had been playing with fire all of his life. It wasn't something he could just stop doing.

"No." The Joker stated dryly leveling him with an unamused gaze.

"What if Hush wins, and I lose my status as Bruce Wayne. I can't be Batman anymore. Does it end then?" The Joker's eyes narrowed at him, the line of his lips growing thin at his words.

"No." He stated again, this time with a hint of irritation. Bruce nodded his head, he was going to keep trying until he got a better answer. Then he knew what would get the Joker going.

"What if you didn't have them?" He asked actually speculating the possibilities that it would change the madman's behavior in some way. The Joker eyed him skeptically,

"What?" The madman questioned, not sounding too sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"The scars. What if you didn't have them. I have the money, the connections. What then?" The Joker brows furrowed, eyes widened, and his lips parted, staring at the billionaire for a full minute.

"Are you daft?" The Joker whispered slowly, and Bruce knew he had broken through.

"You think the scars are what make me the Joker?! Does that cowl make you the Batman?!" The maniac exclaimed with an angry hiss, insulted that Bruce didn't quite understand their situation, his breathing elevated. Bruce's eyes narrowed, then he broke their eye contact, when did he go from being Bruce Wayne to Batman? He recalled the rigorous training and the deep seeded desire to be something more, something better and then he was. It wasn't the suit that made him Batman, he had gone through plenty of suits to know that. Been through trials without the cowl and Kevlar. The Joker nodded his head with a little huff of amusement.

"Babe, this is who we are." The Joker whispered soberly and Bruce looked up at him, their eyes meeting again. His lips thinned as the Joker's hand fell over the side railing in an attempt to reach for the billionaire, but his reach fell short, so he left it hang limply instead as an invitation. The Joker's eyes searched his own for a few more seconds before he parted his lips again.

"It's branded. In our Souls. You can take away the scars. You can take away the cowl. But we're still us." He exhaled, then he hissed in pain, shifting in the bed. He tilted his head towards the playboy when he settled back in, a sad smile on his face.

"That's what I've been trying to get you to see. We're two sides of the same coin. My madness, is your madness. I. Can see, your, insanity. And you..." The Joker suggested raising his head off the pillows, trailing off with a smile. Bruce crossed his arms eyeing the madman who looked, almost hopeful.

"Can see yours?" Bruce asked dubiously, raising an eyebrow at the madman.

"Yes!" The Joker exhaled letting his head fall back again.

"Ah! All it took! Was a few bullet wounds to the chest! God if I had known it would be that easy. I would have done this ages ago." The maniac joked with a wink towards the playboy. He then smoothed the bandages on his chest a little, as he cleared his throat.

"See Batsy, if I'm insane. Then your insane. But, we both. Know. We're insane. So..." The Joker shifted again, a grimace of pain crossing his features.

"Am I insane Bats?" He asked turning wide eyes towards the unmasked vigilante. Bruce gazed into those sharp green eyes, the ones that held so much intelligence. In history wasn't the brilliant often labeled insane?

"Yes." Bruce stated, the Joker couldn't handle the world as it was, couldn't see the point of helping people, so what was he to do with his brilliance,? He hated people, hates people. Most geniuses furthered the world, but why bother helping humanity when all you wanted to do was see it burn? So the world burned and the Joker laughed.

"Am I insane, Bats?" The Joker's eyes narrowed, and he frowned lifting himself a little off the bed, his brows creased in irritation.

"Yes." The billionaire whispered this time, he was insane. They were both insane. And they both knew it. Which made them sane. To themselves, and only to themselves. To the rest of the world they were still insane. Brilliant madness held in helpless never ending cycles. Bruce would always watch those he helped fail, die, or be corrupted, and the Joker will continue burning, but creating nothing in his wake. They would never get what they were after.

"Am I. Insane... Bruce?" The Joker whispered back, watching the emotions play though the man's steel blue eyes. What if the cycle was broken? Bruce's eyes snapped up not realizing he had let them fall, meeting those bright eyes.

"... most of the time." Bruce whispered tempting fate and the Joker huffed in amusement falling back to the bed.

"You're hopeless." The Joker stated, a smile tugging at his lips, a real one. The one he hides behind homicidal grins.

"Hopelessly insane according to you." Bruce tacked on, letting a smile of his own pull at his lips. The smile broke on the Joker's face, lighting up those green eyes and Bruce wondered what line he just crossed.

"And most shrinks. I know you've met some." The madman joked, his smile morphing into a smirk and it was lost. Bruce realized that the rag had gotten cold, and turned back to the bowl with a shake of his head.

"I don't kill people for fun." The billionaire muttered, rinsing out the rag again.

"No you saaaave them." The Joker exhaled sarcastically, letting lose a little chuckle.

"That's not insanity." Bruce stated turning back around to the man.

"Isn't it?" The maniac attempted to shrug his shoulders, but grimaced in pain, letting out a small hiss.

"It's not." Bruce insisted, grabbing the man's limp arm and scrubbing some dirt out of one of the deeper cuts. The man's muscles tensed in pain, green eyes narrowing on the dark haired male.

"Is." The Joker stated, his lips pursed.

"Isn't." The playboy shot back.

"Is."

"Isn't."

"Is."

"Isn't." Bruce stated flippantly, he could play this game all night. The Joker stopped it with a little chuckle, flipping his arm over, revealing the soft flesh underneath.

"See, now we are insane! Doing something over and over again. Expecting different results." The Joker whispered his eyes trailing down Bruce's figure, taking in his thin t-shirt covered muscles, the line of his jaw without the cowl.

"Shut up, before I give you more bruises." Bruce stated, his voice lowering, almost reaching his Batman tone, but not quite and goosebumps broke out on the skin beneath his hands.

"Oh, there it is, saving people through violence. Insani – ty." The Joker chuckled, punctuating the last word for effect. Bruce's stomach flipped at his words, because it's what he did wasn't it. He always saw the way Alfred looked at him when he came back from a night out. The hidden disappointment, regret. Now he couldn't get those moments out of his head. He tried to ignore them. Pretend they didn't exist. That Alfred didn't disapprove of his methods. That his only saving grace was his goals.

"Is not..." Bruce whispered, moving farther up the man's arm.

"Isn't it? Fighting fire, with fire, just makes. Bigger flames." The Joker whispered back, his other hand left its place by his side moving over to tilt Bruce's head up by the chin. Their eyes met, and stormy blue narrowed in annoyance.

"Hasn't it?" The Joker asked biting his scarred lip, and Bruce ripped his face out of his hands, turning back to the task of cleaning his wounds. Not that the madman seemed grateful. Silence reigned through the room. The Joker's eyes darting back and forth between his own.

"Bats?" The madman called after a few seconds, when it became apparent that the billionaire was simply ignoring him.

"Baaaaats." He tried again, his muscles tensing, the familiar irritation eating at him, his features twisting into a scowl. He tried to sit up but only really made it half way.

"Bruce." He gritted out, when all the male did was move to the next cut. The Joker's hand shot out grabbing Bruce's own, the one that was cleaning his wounds. He tightened his grip, pulling the man away from his skin.

"Don't fucking ignore me." The Joker hissed, attempting to crush the man's bones. Bruce's eyes snapped up, but Batman's were the ones that met him. Bruce twisted his arm, switching their hold, he gripped the Joker's wrist, squeezing tightly he stood up and leaned over the man shoving his hand into the bed by the male's side a scowl on his lips.

"I am not." Bruce growled out, hovering above the madman, who's lips parted and eyes widened as the billionaire towered over him.

"Playing. Your fucking mind games! So stop, trying. I'm not your pet project. I'm going to heal you up and put you back where you belong. In Arkham." Bruce hissed out, making sure the maniac knew exactly where he stood.

"So I'm. Your. Pet project?" The Joker asked leaning up, with help from his grip on the bed railing, Bruce's hand still holding it in place, their faces now inches apart.

"Why do you get a pet and I don't?" The madman pouted tilting his head a little more towards the billionaire and Bruce wanted to back away, his breath was rancid, the playboy didn't even want to know how many days the male had gone without brushing his teeth.

"You have a pet, her names Harley Quinzel." Bruce informed the man, and the maniac rolled his eyes with an annoyed huff.

"Oh that sad puppy that followed me home? That's not a real pet. I want a real pet." The Joker whined and Bruce scowled.

"They'd just end up dead." The Joker chuckled at his words, shaking his head, amusement dancing in his green eyes.

"No. That's your forte." He licked his lips, "Do you know what you're waiting for Batsy?" The maniac asked quietly, and Bruce's grip tightened on the man's wrist, the Joker's fingers twitched from the pressure.

"You leave a lot more dead behind you." Bruce growled through gritted teeth ignoring his question, his voice slipping lower, and the Joker's eyes flickered down.

"Not one's I care about." The Joker's eyes narrowed slyly, and the billionaire's followed in anger, a scoff leaving the playboy's lips.

"Because you're a bipolar sociopath. Which is why you're going back to Arkham." The vigilante stated, his voice finally falling into his usual growl. The Joker exhaled airily, closing the distance between them, his lips resting against Bruce's softly.

"I'd like to see you try." He whispered against the larger male, Bruce jerked back instantly. Removing himself from the man's space, running an arm in disgust across his lips. The Joker licked his own bottom lip, sitting back into the bed, the bandages on his chest now spotted with blood.

"And that, Bruce... was what you were waiting for." The Joker whispered darkly, a satisfied smile on his lips. The playboy scowled, tossing the rag back into the bowl. He didn't need to play this game. He stared at the madman, he was fucking bonkers if the maniac believed that. Just absolutely insane. He didn't need to deal with this right now. The man was awake, Bruce didn't need to help him, he wasn't helpless anymore.

"I don't need a pet project." The billionaire stated gripping the tray, he rolled it over to the bed, ignoring the Joker's stunned look.

"You can take care of yourself." Bruce said blandly meeting the bright green eyes one last time, he stepped away from the bed again and turned his back to the madman, making his way to the door.

"Woah-wa-w-wait. Hold on!" The Joker called after him, there was a scrambling against the sheets and a hiss of pain behind the billionaire. The madman huffed back into the bed, one hand on his shoulder as he watched Bruce turn the door handle.

"Come on Bats. You're not. You're not actually going to just run away are you?! You're, hey! You're running away! You're running away Bats! Bats?! Bruce?! Get back here! I'm not done with – ." Bruce slammed the door shut behind him, locked it, turned, and stalked down the hallway without a second glance, he didn't make it far however. Tim was leaning against the wall near the elevator. His eyes immediately narrowed in on his mentor. They were going to have a talk. Now. Bruce so didn't feel up to this.

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I would appreciate if you guys pointed out anything that doesn't seem probable. I like my stories to flow well and not seem entirely like a cracked out fanfiction where you stop and say wait... that's not possible in real life. So let meh know!


	8. Chapter 8 - Ghosts Inside

I kinda really like my Robin character... rofl. So sorry for the long winded section between the two. They're cute. Awwww. Cute.

Merry Christmas Fallon.

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Shattered Identities

Chapter 8

Ghosts Inside

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Silence reigned through the hallway, the only sound the near inaudible rush of the air conditioning and the extremely faint muffled cries of frustration from their new house guest. Bruce stood awkwardly in the middle of the hall, his bulking presence taking up quite a bit of room. He gritted his teeth and stared at the vase displayed a few feet away, the priceless vase, family heirloom vase, probably wouldn't last very long with the madman in the vicinity. He should get it moved, but couldn't really bring himself to care. Tim still leaned against the wall, his eyes narrowed in on his mentor, watching his every move, which was nothing. Bruce's lack of incentive in their little chat was frustrating the teen with every second that ticked by. Tim huffed some air out through his nose, gritting his teeth in anger.

"Are we seriously, just going to just sit here all day? Or are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on, and if – ."

"Lang – ."

" – you say Language so fucking help me." Tim warned pushing off the wall and stepping towards the man, one finger zeroed in on the opposing male.

" – uage." Bruce finished, slowly turning his attention to his irate partner and adopted son. Silence reigned through the hall once more but this time it was the calm before the storm. The teen's face darkened with a scowl, his fists curling into white knuckled fists. Finally with a cry of frustration Tim dashed forward and the billionaire raised his forearms, ducking his head a little, blocking his face against the teen's violent onslaught, but not bothering to dissuade his attempts. To stop the ruthless uncontrolled assault on his body. Tim slammed a fist into Bruce's arm once, twice, again, and again, over and over, letting the action slowly sap his strength, his anger. Finally the punching stopped and the kid stumbled back a few steps with a discouraged huff. Then he teetered forward, pushing violently at his mentors sturdy form with one last huff of frustration. Then once more, weakly, when the first attempt didn't budge the man, and he knew the second one wouldn't as well. Tim let his hands slide from his mentor's newly bruised skin, his shoulder's slumping as he closed his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tim asked disheartened, watching the floor, not meeting Bruce's eyes when the man finally lowered his arms.

"Why do you think?" The billionaire asked quietly, letting his own shoulder's slump. Alfred had been right, it wasn't the best idea, but Bruce thought he had more time, would have more time.

"You think I can't handle him? I've handled him before!" Tim's head snapped up, determination and disappointment marring his youthful features, his hands balling into fists again. Bruce shook his head in negation, letting his eyes fall to the floor. They stood in silence for a few more seconds, Tim growing incredulous by the second, ready to throw more punches if that was the only thing that got through to the man, but he'd give him some time. Tim knew how awkward Bruce was when it came to personal issues.

"No. He promised to kill you, yes. But, tell. Me. He doesn't interest you. That you're not curious." Bruce demanded and Tim shook his head with a small incredulous laugh, staring at the billionaire as if he were the crazy one.

"Curious? About what? He's an insane homicidal sociopath. There's nothing to be curious about." The teen stated firmly, taking a step towards his mentor, his shoulder tense, brows creased in irritation. Bruce shook his head sadly, his lips pulled into a tight smile.

"Why I keep you away from him." The man revealed, knowing Tim was smart enough to know exactly what he was talking about.

"I know, why you keep me away from him." Tim growled, one finger thrusting towards the ground in a decisive gesture.

"Jason. I know that." The kid insisted quietly, hating the fact that the dead Robin ever existed, held so much sway over Batman's view of him.

"That's not why and you know. That." Bruce stated forcefully mimicking the teens gesture and Tim clammed up, his jaw tightening his brows furrowing father. He tried to hold his gaze with his mentor but had to look away, letting his shoulder slump, because it was true. Tim closed his eyes taking a deep breath, tilting his head he opened his mouth, but Bruce beat him to it.

"Don't make excuses, you know why I didn't tell you and it hurts. I know. But I couldn't have you snooping around him. I needed more time." Bruce informed the teen, letting his muscles loosen a little when it seemed he had gotten through to the kid. The kid tensed up at that, a scowl back on his face.

"Time for what?" Tim snapped in exasperation, throwing his hands out in confusion, fixing Bruce with a confused piercing gaze. Bruce stepped forward as Tim retreated back to his defensive position.

"To figure out what to do with him." The playboy stated sternly, his eyes narrowing down at the kid's continued frown. Tim rolled his eyes, easily meeting Bruce's intimidating gaze.

"How about what you always do with him, send him back to Arkham." The teen suggested, crossing his arms like it was the obvious course of action. Bruce closed his eyes, reigning in some patience, and the guilt the kid's words brought upon him.

"Arkham. Is in shambles. They'll never hold him long enough to make a difference. He'd be back on the street within the week, if we're lucky. The way those so called, doctors, were talking. It probably wouldn't even be a day. I don't need that right now, Gotham doesn't need that right now. I have enough to currently deal with, then to have to chase down the real Joker across the city. Or deal with his retaliations against the fake ones. People would die from his wrath alone." Bruce explained, his brows furrowing in concern, hoping that the teen understood the situation they were in. Tim took a deep breath and finally his eyes softened with a sigh, and a few seconds later he nodded his head, placing his hands on his hips, he stared at the designs on the wall.

"He knows." Tim whispered, worry eating at his wrinkle free face, he gazed fearfully into his mentor's eyes, looking for the solution to all their problems in those steel blue orbs.

"He does." Bruce replied, breaking their eye contact, unwilling to reveal to the teen just how little he could do about that, realizing a bit more the implications of his statement. There was a small pause of silence, and the teen looked down at his feet.

"I'm sorry." Tim whispered quietly, and Bruce immediately frowned, shaking his head, his eyes snapping to his adopted son.

"No. It wasn't you're fault." The billionaire insisted, ready to pound that fact into the kid's head with as many repetitions of that sentence as he needed. He wouldn't let the teen blame himself for this, the Joker would have know whether he had entered the room or not. Tim simply sighed, meeting his mentor's eyes steadily.

"What are we going to do?" Tim asked, concern etched into his features.

"We? Aren't going to do anything." Bruce stated crossing his arms, while Tim raised an eyebrow at him, shifting his weight onto one foot, he crossed his own arms mirroring the man's stance.

"You and Alfred are going to leave the house. I don't want you two anywhere near him, and I don't have the facilities here to hold him. Barbra's at the Bat Cave. I'm not risking her safety by testing our holding cells against the best escape artist in Gotham. That's out of the question." Bruce stated with finality and Tim scoffed, running a hand through his hair a sardonic smile tugging at his lips.

"So you want us to run." The teen sneered incredulously.

"Relocate." Bruce corrected him, narrowing his eyes at the kid's attitude, a sour smirk gracing the teen's lips.

"Run." Tim insisted, the smile not leaving his face, and the billionaire frowned taking a few steps forward, towering over the teen.

"As long as you're not here, fine. Call it what you want. Get you're things packed and move. Go keep Barbra company." Bruce suggested, and Tim chewed on his cheek for a moment mulling the demand over. Finally the kid sighed, rolling his eyes up at his burly mentor.

"Fine. I'll take the old geezer and we'll go make friends with you're bats, but remember I don't like this idea." Tim stated, poking Bruce in the chest with one finger his eyes still trained on the man's blue ones, before pivoting around, Bruce barely had time to register the poke before the kid was half way down the hall.

"Tim?" Bruce called after him, just before he turned the corner. The teen not bothering to turn around.

"Stay away from the Joker." The playboy demanded with a grim expression, watching the kid wave halfheartedly in acknowledgment as he turned the corner.

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

Bruce was about to reach the hidden door leading to the Bat Cave, he wanted to check up on Barbra, when the house com closest to him turned on.

"Master Bruce. I believe you have a visitor." Alfred's voice echoed through the hall. Bruce almost missed the good old days when the man actually had to track him down. He got more things done back them. Bruce changed course, walking up to the com he activated the microphone.

"Who?"

"Lucius Fox. I believe you know him sir." Alfred said haughtily and Bruce rolled his eyes.

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

"And we'll be waiting sir." The supposed butler replied, the billionaire already making his way back into the mansion, barely hearing the man's words. It didn't take him long to reach the greeting room, one with less windows then usual, just in case.

"Lucius." Bruce greeted entering the room and waltzing towards the man.

"Bruce." Lucius replied, grabbing the arm that Bruce extended him, shaking it for good measure.

"Its good to see you... being you." Fox informed him and the billionaire's brows creased.

"What's that supposed to mean? What happened?" Bruce asked while gesturing to one of their expensive arm chairs across the equally expensive coffee table. Lucius took the offer walking around the furniture to take a seat with a deep sigh.

"I'm sure you've seen the news?" His CEO asked and the playboy nodded his head, taking a seat as well, his attention solely on his guest.

"We'll I've spent the good part of the morning trying to keep. You. From taking hold of the company."

"I can't take hold of the company, I signed away any right to run Wayne Corp, to you. And only you."

"Yes. Well that little tidbit hasn't gone public yet, which seems to have been good for me. Considering you came in this morning armed with all of the paperwork needed for it. I've been hassling with that wannabe for hours, and I must say he's rather annoying. Don't ever take the playboy on as you're sole persona. Ever." Fox insisted a rather irritated look gracing his usually serious features.

"I'll keep that in mind." Bruce replied and Lucius let out a little laugh, shifting in his chair.

"He literally had everything he needed to take over the company. Even the blood sample checked out, which is why I came here personally. I had to be sure you didn't get yourself involved in some kind of memory, erasing, I don't know, something. Then I realized that – ."

"It wasn't the right D.N.A?" Bruce finished for him and Fox nodded his head, leaning forward in his seat.

"I tested it on some equipment I've been working on, that will only activate for you, and it didn't work. So either my design is faulty or..."

"It wasn't me." Bruce finished again and the other man gave him a tight smile leaning back again.

"What did you do?" The playboy asked curiously, sure the man did something to postpone the takeover.

"I'm stalling him right now, but you need to take care of this business. The sooner it gets taken care of the better. If I have to divulge that signed paper to the world, I'm going to have a bounty on my head anytime someone wants to pull this stunt, or anything like it again."

"I'll figure something out soon. How many days do I have? Roughly?" Bruce asked, the weariness of the last few days creeping into his voice.

"You have a full week, starting today, definitely. Since the papers we drew up, for the previous change in oversight of the company, dictated a full week before anything is finalized. After that I can't tell you how long I will be able to hold the company without the document. It depends on how good their lawyers are versus ours." Bruce nodded his head at Fox's explanation, leaning back in his chair he crossed his ankle over his knee.

"I shouldn't need that long, but with the way things are going this week I might. Do what you can and keep me posted. The last thing we need is for you to become a target. I want you hidden away the second that document is released to the courts. Let someone stand in for you. I'm not taking any risks with this one." The billionaire replied his gaze far away as he worked through some of the plans he had come up with. Wondering how long they would actually take.

"I'm not going to argue with that, I like my job, and I don't want to die." Fox smirked just as Alfred entered the room, carrying a tray of tea. The two men murmured their thank you's distractedly.

"I would hope not. What was this other me like?" Bruce asked curious, picking up a teacup that was easily dwarfed in comparison to his large hands.

"Irritating, extremely self centered, egotistical. He acted like it was his birth right to run the place. He came in, I'm sure intending to take the place by storm, over turn the leadership and what not. It was nice to wipe that smug look off his face. I suppose no one would be able to tell difference between you two." Fox stated jestingly and Bruce's eyes narrowed in good nature.

"Gee, thanks." The billionaire stated sarcastically a small smile pulling at his lips. His playboy persona was a little obnoxious to say the least. It had actually been nice to run in that political campaign for shutting down Arkham City. He was able to show that he wasn't all needs and testosterone. They both sat for a few seconds smiles on their faces, before Fox sobered up.

"Really though. It would be hard to tell you two apart judging simply from an outsider's point of view. Anyone in Gotham that doesn't know you personally wouldn't look twice, while the ones that do, would probably just think you're simply having a midlife crisis."

"Great."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure yet." Bruce reluctantly admitted, he didn't have a solid plan yet and he wasn't going to promise Fox any specific dates.

"That's. Not something we hear everyday. What? You're not going to just, run in guns blazing, so to speak?" Fox asked slightly taken a back. Bruce shook his head slowly his eyes trained on the glass coffee table.

"No. There's more going on right now then just Hush trying to take my identity, someone's taking the Joker's as well. What the outcome of that would be is beyond me. What could someone possibly want with that madman's skin?"

"Well." Fox paused staring at the coffee table as well, before his eyes bounced back towards the billionaire, who looked up to meet him.

"You run the law, yes? They side with you. You do whats right and have the good doers on your side, the well known politics and the famous spotlight. In essence, you run the light, the day. While the Joker. He – ."

"Runs the dark." Bruce stated, and Fox nodded his head in affirmative.

"The criminals, mafia, black markets, the ill moral side of Gotham. If they took over Batman and the Joker."

"They would rule the city. In-ports, exports, elections, trafficking, drugs, clean and dirty money trades. Bank accounts, stock markets, hell even movie trends." Bruce whispered, realizing the full impact of losing both their rule over Gotham.

"Just a thought."

"Why couldn't I see that?" Bruce asked quietly, stunned that he didn't realize that himself, it was so obvious.

"You like to pretend the Joker doesn't have as much foot hold in this city as he really does." Bruce leaned forward a little letting one hand run through his short hair.

"They want to take over Gotham... Hush wants Gotham, but he can't rule it alone. Someone has to be Joker... but who? I need to find out who his partner is, who's connected to this. I can't make a move on Hush, not while he's in the public's eye. The Joker though, I can close in on him."

"At least you have a start then. Is there anything else you need help with?"

"My grappling gun..." Bruce started into a full recount of the damaged equipment, both men getting engrossed in the discussion.

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

The door slowly creaked open, silence reigned through the room, only cut by a slow beeping. Then boots clicked across tiled floor and a deep chuckled built slowly from inside.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? A little lost birdy? What a brave soul, you, are. Let me take a quick guess why you're here! You want to, play, a little game? Didn't daddy tell you not to play. With fire?" A voiced mocked dangerously, dancing green eyes meeting determined baby blue. Tim crept into the room slowly, leaving the door open behind him, too nervous to actually bring himself to close off his only exit, his eyes trained on the grimy roughed up male reclining in the bed. He didn't let his nerves show however, he kept his eyes fixed on the man laying lazily in the hospital like bed, an IV pumping blood and clear fluids into his veins.

"He did, but I don't see why its such a big deal. I'm not Jason after all." Tim stated venomously, bringing up a topic he knew was sore for the madman, recalling his last encounter with the Joker. He had won that battle, and he liked to think it was because of his skills and not the madman's shock at seeing a living breathing Robin. God Bruce had looked so scared when he had heard, demanded he never set foot near the maniac again, but Tim could handle some nutjob, regardless of the death threats the man threw at him.

"Hmm," The Joker sucked his cheeks in, tapping his fingernails on the bed railing, trailing his eyes up and down, the teen in front of him.

"You're not, no." The madman's eyes snapped back up. He paused for a second then scoffed good-naturedly rolling his eyes.

"Oh, don't look so, tense, love bird. I know I promised to kill you, but! Doing that right now would be boring, and, uh, troublesome to say the least. Oh, but, don't think I'm taking it back. No take-baksies! I will kill you. Just not today."

"I'm not too worried. You're not that scary." Tim stated, crossing his arms and leaning back against a machine, daring the man to state otherwise, to bring up the multitude of people he's killed. The maniac chuckled, nodding his head.

"You're right! I'm not! A little hacked up sure! But scary? Me? Never. I'm just you're average Joe, trying to make sense of the world at large. Its, such a big world." The Joker exhaled dramatically falling back and throwing one arm across forehead, his eyes closed for effect.

"You're not an average Joe, but I've seen men scarier then you." Tim replied, his lips thinning in irritation at the man's antics. The Joker laughed, leaning back forward, he stopped and they stared at each other for a few seconds, before the madman tilted his head. Biting his lip, he gave the teen a once over, his eyes snapping back up to meet those determined baby blue ones, his face going blank.

"Then you're. Not looking. Hard. Enough." The Joker whispered stoically, a sadistic smirk suddenly tugged at his lips, followed by a slow chuckle. The madman leaned back looking bored, he lifted one of his hands up to inspect under the nails, which were filthy. He didn't do anything about it, though. Tim's eyes narrowed, irritation clawing at his insides. Why did he come in here? What was he looking to prove again?

"I've killed more people then you've killed ants." The Joker laughed flippantly, and Tim scowled.

"I've dealt with crazies before, and I still don't see why he worries about you so much. So you get off killing people and don't care about personal gain. I don't see how that's scary. It's just dumb." Tim countered, his eyes narrowed in on the Joker, searching for what he was missing. What was so scary? The guy was crazy sure. Killed a lot of people, yeah. Who did they go up against that didn't? Did Batman simply think he couldn't handle himself, like Jason couldn't? Was that the only reason he didn't want him near the Joker. If Tim could just get to the bottom of it. Figure it out then maybe. Maybe. He could convince Batman, Bruce, that he could help. That he could take the Joker on, could survive and be an asset, that those years training abroad wasn't for his good looks. He just needed to find the root of Bruce's concern. What made the Joker more dangerous then the rest? Wasn't the Riddler basically the same as the Joker. He took hostages and made elaborate traps for Batman to fall into, what was the difference between them? The Joker didn't have a conscience?

The Joker narrowed his own eyes at the boy, worrying the bottom of his lip as they stared at each other for a full minute. Then the madman nodded, tilting his head to the side, a small smile gracing his scarred face, a deep chuckle emanating from his chest, he leaned back into the bed again closing his eyes in amusement.

"You know kid. You and me. We're a lot alike. The Me. And... You." The Joker giggled gesturing between the two of them, his green eyes piercing through Tim's baby blue ones. Tim scoffed uncrossing his arms, this was a waste of his time. There was nothing different between the Joker and the Riddler except the former's penchant to kill at the drop of a hat.

"Please, I'm nothing like you." Tim scowled out, eyeing the man with disgust. This could be funny. Maybe the madman's reply would make this at least an entertaining encounter, rather then a complete waste, give him something to actually think about while Bruce chewed him out. The Joker broke their eye contact, an excited grin stretching his scars.

"Oh ho ho. That's what you think, that's what you both think." He laughed quietly, "Then again you're both wrong, like father like son right?!" The Joker stated, leveling his amused gaze on the annoyed looking teenage.

"Yeah? Fine. Amuse me. Why are we the same?" Tim asked flippantly, ready for some strung up explanation of their childhoods or some bullshit. He heard the Joker liked to make up background stories. The Joker grinned, shifting in the bed he sat up straighter, leaning towards the kid a little, he fixed an unblinking stare onto the teen, their eyes shifting to take each other in. Then the Joker's mouth moved, the word whispered into the air like a slow acting poison.

"Obsession." Tim's heart dropped out of his chest and into his stomach, bile crawling to replace it. That was a joke right, the madman couldn't possibly be referring to... anything really, he was over reacting. He wasn't obsessed with anything or anyone. The guy was grasping at straws.

"What?" The teen breathed out, trying to keep the emotions out of his tone and failing.

"It's simple really. Batman! I mean. Bat. Man. Who wouldn't want a piece of that action!"

"I am not attracted to – ." Tim scoffed, with narrow eyes, ready to leave the room.

"Oh, save it for someone who cares!" The Joker exclaimed cutting him off, "It doesn't matter what stage of the obsession you're in right now, it's still. An obsession. One we share. We. Thrive. On. Me and you, are alike. You and I. Obsessed. With Bats. With. Bruce." The Joker chuckled a little shifting his body a little more towards the kid, his hand on the bed railing, his head over the edge of the bed, keeping their eyes locked. Tim raised a skeptical eyebrow. Sure he aspired to be like the man, admired him, but never sexually, never desired him, not like that.

"You're wrong, which makes sense, because you're crazy." He stated insistently, ready to pivot on the spot and leave the room, but leaving would seem like an admission and the last thing he needed was for the Joker to think he was some kind of competition.

"Oh come on kid! You can deny it all you want! I know... Who you are." The Joker stated, the insanity slipping from his voice for just a second, easily catching Tim's full attention, filling the teen with a fearful dread he hadn't felt for a long time. His muscles tensed on their own, ready for a fight.

"You had a perfect, functioning, family before him. You had a life, a future and what did you do?" The Joker whispered between gritted teeth, sadistic amusement dancing in his eyes.

"You wasted it away, dashing after the man in a cowl and cape. Easily throwing that, boring, life away for just a glimpse of his true self." The Joker let out a dark chuckled, Tim's eyes now riveted to his own. Tim's heart raced a little faster as the madman kept talking, whispering words he didn't want to hear.

"But he doesn't give it does he? He never lets you in... Will never let you in. You know why you're not the first Robin? And you wont be the last? Because Dick gave up. He was tired of chasing, tired of waiting, tired of wasting his life. You'll do the same and some other starry eyed boy will take you're place but, Jason?" The Joker chuckled again, licking his lips, his eyes a little glassy as he took a moment to remember the boy, his lips thinning.

"He came close." The Joker finally whispered venomously, at the memory of the previous Robin. Tim gritted his teeth, his brain running away despite his demand to stay calm. It threw at him every mention Bruce made of the other Robin. Ever recollection that stopped the man in his tracks, every reminder that Batman didn't want Tim to end up like Jason. Didn't want him to, be, like Jason. What if Batman was scared of more then just him losing to the Joker? No. Don't listen. This was madness.

"He was self-righteous, and uh, volatile. Lived on the edge and plowed out his own borders. He pushed Bruce's ethics, his reasons. He was close. So. Close. He wedged his way into the man's steel heart. And then!"The madman paused, letting Tim's heart speed up in fear, disappointment, betrayal, waiting for the man's next words. What Batman, Bruce and the old Robin could have shared.

"I. Killed. Him." The Joker giggled, slowly breaking out into a full laugh. Tim shook his head defiantly, trying to rid himself of the sudden pain, regretting his rash decision to enter this room, humiliation at letting it effect him. He didn't want to think about this, he didn't want to think about any of it. He didn't want to delve into the basis of his desire to find Batman's true identity, he didn't want to know why he was always so angry the man didn't trust him, didn't see him as an equal. Why the mention of Jason always set his blood on fire.

"That's ridiculous. You may claim to know me, us. But you don't know anything." Tim stated calmly anger still seeping into his words, he turned to leave and it was the Joker's turn to scoff.

"You? I don't need to worry about you! That's why I haven't killed you yet! Because you'll never get in there. You'll never, tear, at his walls from the inside with just the. Utter. Of you're name. You'll never be Batman's Robin. You'll push and pound and shove but he'll never see you." The maniac sang mockingly. Giving the kid a shrug of pity, and wide innocent apologetic eyes, when the kid rounded on him with an angry gaze and gritted teeth.

"You're wrong." The teen growled out, his features warped with the emotion. The Joker tutted, ignoring the kids anger.

"He'll never notice you're there, you're just a reminder of someone better. You follow him around like a lost puppy, whining for attention that he's too busy to give you. Too busy. Morning. The death of his. Favorite. Little Robin, the one that made him feel. Alive. You're a filler that will never seal that gap." The Joker plowed on regardless, sitting up slowly, painfully, really ready to get this steam train going.

"You're wrong..." Tim hissed out, his fists tightening. The Joker's features finally twisted into anger, as well, at the teens continued denial.

"You weren't even an orphan before this." The madman hissed out leaning over the side of the bed.

"You had. A family! You had a home! And you left it! For this, fucked up, merry go round of crazy town known as Bruce Wayne!" The madman sang, throwing a hand into the air.

"You're a teenage boy, for gods sake! With growing hormones! And yet you spend you're nights chasing criminals instead of girls. You'll go on to chase bad men while others your age are getting degrees and falling in love, living real lives! Which is something you'll never have. Not with this life that he's condemned you to. People will die, and they'll die, and they'll die some more! Welcome to the roller coaster of hell kid! This ride doesn't have a pretty stop back at the start, it ends in an explosion of flames and body parts!"

"That's bullshit." The teen pushed through gritted teeth his fists shaking, taking a menacing step forward, who was this man to say he'd never find love? That this life wasn't right. Who was he to tell him how to live? The madman laughed dryly, shaking his head.

"Was it worth it Tim? Was he worth it? Is running around in a little boy's costume worth the rest of you're long youthful life? The training and agony, the loss and death. The destruction and. Vile. Degradation of the world around you?" The Joker hissed back, then he licked his lips a sad expression morphing that scarred face. There was a small pause and Tim didn't want to hear whatever the man had to say next.

"Was. It... right of him?" The madman asked quietly searching the teen's face, concern and pity written on his scared features.

"To let you? To pull you away from that? What kind of cruel monster removes a boy from his loving home and. Trains him. To be a crime fighter. To fight. His. Crime? His battles? His war?" The Joker continued, letting out a dry scoff with equally dry laughter. The madman nodded his head, leaning back a little he threw his arms out.

"It's okay, Tim. Men in Africa do it all the time! Make little minions for themselves, children who worship them, aspire to be them," He leaned back forward, "grovel for their acknowledgment and approval, because they know nothing else. Just. Like... You." He stated harshly and Tim's jaw started hurting.

"Was that how you wanted you're life? Living in the. Shadow. Of what he thinks is. Perfect? What he thinks is. Worth. His. Time?" The Joker turned his head a little, a playful look on his face.

"Is what you do, even right? Just? Is what you've been lead to believe the world is, real?! Beating up people for beating up other people? Does that sound like a solid plan to you?! Fighting fire with fire?! Violence with violence, pain for pain, an eye for an eye!" The Joker stopped suddenly, nodding his head at the boy, his matted hair barely moving with the effort. A knowing grin cleaving his face. He chuckled darkly, breaking out into a loud barking laughter. The madman shut up suddenly, slapping the railing, the sound echoing through the room, almost startling Tim. The Joker leaned forward again, as far over the railing as he could.

"You know why. He does it. Right?" The madman whispered like he held the secret to the world, so quietly the teen had to strain to listen. The Joker paused, giving the kid a sultry look, that had the teen scowling.

"Because it feels good. Makes. Him. Feel good. Sends chills down his spine, tingles across his brain. Blood rushing through his veins." The Joker laughed heartily, rattling the bed railing, leaning back forward.

"Does it feel good to you Robin?! Or do you just want to make him proud? His own fucked up version of a straight A student! His little trophy boy! " The Joker cackled loudly at the outraged expression that twisted the kid's features.

"Enough!" Tim cried out, raising a boot he violently slammed it into the side of the bed, sending it forcefully into the wall, leaving a large dent in the plaster. The Joker jerked from the force of the impact, falling backwards with a loud giggle. His head collided painfully against the wall, silencing his laughter for only a moment, before the bed bounced back, rolling a few inches towards the angry teen. Mad laughter filled the room and the Joker clutched his stomach and injured shoulder with the effort, rolling around on the bed.

"Whats wrong little bird?! Didn't you want to play?! Next time bring some cookies – And I'll play – Nice – ." The Joker broke off giggling madly, his eyes squinted in sheer joy at the teen's reaction.

"You're fucking insane." Tim growled out, resisting the urge to punch the man in the face. The Joker's eyes widened as he gasped for breath. The laughter dying out enough for him to speak.

"I'm. Sorry! Do I need to make memo cards? Post it stickers? Should I get a jacket? Care! Criminally insane! Don't poke, prod, or piss off!" The Joker faltered, as the teen turned away from him.

"Hey wait! Where are you going sweetheart? Our play date over already? I thought you. Wanted! To see why Batsy keeps me around! Hey!" The Joker shouted viciously, one hand shooting out, grasping the teen's retreating wrist in an iron clad grip. The madman, lifted the other hand, grabbing a hold of the kids shirt and jerking him down to eye level, making sure the kid was paying attention. He licked his lips as the kid clawed at his hands.

"You know the really fucked up part, cupcake? You and I. We're both just his whimful creations. Both the out come of his little exper-i-ment. Called life. Being molded to his. Personal needs. Wants. Desires." The Joker leaned in closer, hissing through gritted teeth.

"He made us both. That... Tim... Robin? Is how we're the same." The Joker whispered loosening his grip letting the teen slip away from him. Tim jerked away from the madman the second his hold lessened and he stumbled back. The Joker sat back laughing as the stoic teen pivoted. Tim stopped in the door way, looking like he wanted to tell the madman something, anything. Instead he slammed the door shut behind him, stalking down the hall, muffled laughter following him, his hands shaking. From anger or, or something. It was anger. Of course it was anger. It was anger. But then... Why did he feel like crying?

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Bruce instantly noticed when Alfred came into the room to sweep away the trays, immediately cutting off the discussion he was having with Lucius Fox. He leaned forward in his chair, watching the man walk through the room with growing concern.

"Alfred. Why are you still here?" Bruce asked fear clawing at his insides, as he took in the man's confused expression.

"I'm sorry sir?" Alfred questioned, freezing in the action of picking up the tea tray, equally concerned, tired eyes meeting the billionaire's.

"Tim. Did he talk to you? Have you seen him?" Bruce stood up from his chair, already knowing the answer to his question.

"I'm sorry sir. I have not. Is something wrong?" Alfred stuttered watching the playboy's tense muscles, and serious expression.

"It was nice seeing you Fox. I'm sure you know the way out." Bruce called behind him as he rushed out of the room, not sparing the occupants a second glance.

"Bruce?! What happened?! Bruce!" Alfred called after the man's retreating form, shaking his head when the male simply disappeared around the corner.

Bruce stalked down the hall heading towards the elevator, fear eating at his insides, what if he was too late, what if – he paused, a sudden chill sweeping down the hall from an adorning branch of the mansion. A section that lead to Tim's room. Bruce back tracked quickly, rushing down the hallway he reached the kid's open bedroom, no sign of the teen, his things still were Tim had left them. The cold wind was coming from farther down, so he ventured on, turning a corner into the hallway that overlooked the gardens. His shoulder's sagged in relief as he rounded that corner. Tim was down the hall a little ways, the window thrown open. Little drifts of snow filtering through, dancing onto the carpeted floor. Tim was sitting on the window ledge, his legs pulled up to his chest, his gaze staring down at the snow covered ground, curled in on himself. As Bruce approached he could tell something was wrong. The teen was tense, the hands gripping his jeans white knuckled. Bruce closed his eyes, letting lose a little sigh of weariness.

"Tim." Bruce called quietly as he reached the boy, the teen didn't startle, simply flicked his eyes onto the male before turning his gaze back towards the grounds.

"I told you not to talk to him." The billionaire whispered sternly, stopping inches away from the teen, concern written across his features. The teen was silent for a few long moments, before finally turning his head, eyes closed, and rest his head on his knees..

"I know." Tim confirmed not leaving the safety of his self induced darkness. The playboy got closer to the teen, looking down on his dark head. Smiling a little at the cowlick from where the boy messes up his hair while he sleeps.

"What did he say?" Bruce asked curiously, hoping he could fix whatever damage the madman had done. Tim simply shook his head, refusing to meet his mentor's eyes. They sat in silence for a full two minutes, Bruce trying to figure out what to say, then to work up enough nerve to just say it. While his mentor sat there, a warm presence by his side Tim watched the snow swirl across the white blanketed gardens, dance across the frozen pond. Finally Bruce sighed and hefted himself up onto the other side of the large stone ledge, the window ledge meant to hold potted flowers, snow melting into his clothes as he sat down. Facing Tim he crossed his legs, studying his adopted son with worried eyes. Bruce cleared his throat looking down at the grounds as well.

"Look, Tim. Whatever he said, it wasn't true. It may sound real, but its not. He doesn't know anything." Bruce insisted, still unable to bring himself to say those things to the teen's face. Tim's head lifted slowly towards him, intelligent baby blue eyes chilling the billionaire's skin as he turned to meet them.

"He's not insane." Tim whispered assuredly, watching his mentor shift uncomfortably in his spot. The larger male's eyes fell to stare at the stone beneath him, running his hands along the black sweat pants on his thighs.

"No... He's not." Bruce replied slowly, watching the window ledge collect snow as goose bumps broke across his skin from the chill.

"Then why?" Tim asked after a moment, confused and frustrated, unable to comprehend the Joker. The question could be so many things, and the answer could be just as vast, but only one came close to the truth.

"Because he can? I don't know." Bruce trailed off shaking his head, his eyes back on the half weathered stone, taking in the difference between the inside and the outside. The pale rain washed, wind beaten side to the immaculate inside.

"But you do know." The teen answered steadily and Bruce closed his eyes, his brows creasing at the thought.

"Maybe." The playboy admitted, his eyes moving back up to the teen's, who hadn't left their mentor from the start.

"Tim whatever he said, I know it makes sense. That doesn't mean it's true. Doesn't mean that's whatever, is there. I just... you can't listen to him. Harley Quinn – ."

"Did you love Jason?" Tim cut him off staring imploringly into steel blue eyes. Bruce frowned, and he leaned forward a little, confused and entirely weary of this subject.

"Tim. What did he say to you?" Bruce asked more forcefully, he needed to know so he could fix this. He should have watched the kid closer, taken the key, anything to keep this from happening. From letting the Joker flip his Robin's world upside down.

"It doesn't matter what he said, just answer the question." Tim demanded, anger seeping into his own frown. It took Bruce another minute of staring into space, long enough that the teen scoffed, ripping his eyes away from the male. Finally the billionaire sighed, staring down at the grounds again.

"Yes. Of course." He said quietly, barely heard over the small wind ebbing around them. Tim's head snapping around to stare at him.

"He was my son. Dick, Jason. You. You're my son." Bruce admitted, turning his eyes back to the teen, taking in Tim's parted lips and large eyes.

"Is that what this is about? Did the Joker tell you I don't love you?" Bruce asked and instantly the kid's eyes glistened, jaw tensed. Tim jerked his head towards the grounds, which only let the lights from outside dance across his wet orbs, reflecting in the waters pooling there.

"Tim." Bruce whispered, unsure what to say or do. Should he just say it? That he loved the kid? Loved his adopted son and student? Could he say it? Could he bring himself to utter those words. The words he hasn't said since his parents had died? He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, trying to will himself to just say them. To fix this, but he couldn't, his shoulder's slumped, he couldn't say it. He looked up and watched the lone tear slide down the kid's cheek, which Tim quickly wiped away, and he couldn't just do nothing.

"Come here." Bruce whispered with a frown, awkwardly holding his arms out. Tim's brows furrowed and he turned his head slowly, eyes widening at the sight before him. The offer.

"What?" Tim breathed in disbelief, unsure he wasn't hallucinating, that all of this wasn't just some stupid nightmarish dream.

"Come here." Bruce stated again, gesturing towards himself with a twitched of his fingers and Tim let out a bark of laughter.

"I'm dreaming." Tim muttered to himself with a quiet laugh, turning his attention back to the grounds. Bruce sat there for a few seconds, unsure what to do from here. If he should just let it drop or should try again? Try harder? His arm's fell a little and he was just about to awkwardly let them go when the kid shook his head in doubt. Tim shifted, pulling his feet beneath him, and suddenly he covered the small distance between them, wrapping his arms around Bruce's chest. The billionaire stiffened for a few seconds at the contact, slowly letting his arms enclose around the boy. Tim's hands balled into his gray shirt tightly, his face buried in the playboy's shoulder. Tim pulled his legs closer, letting himself fall into Bruce's lap, curling around the man's warmth. Letting the tears slid down his face and soak into the man's shirt, just letting go. Eventually Bruce's chin came to rest on top of the teen's head and Tim laughed a little, because he felt safe. Safer then he ever had in his life.

"Is it weird..." Tim started then broke off for a second, shifting his head, resting his forehead against Bruce's collar bone, freeing his chin and mouth.

"That I care more about you're approval, then my own father's, even before he died?" Tim whispered quietly, and Bruce's arms tightened around him, the chest beneath him rising farther then usual, until his mentor let go in a long exhale. The breath tickling the hair's on top of his head.

"I don't know." Bruce eventually stated, entirely unsure. It would have been fine with Dick or Jason. Their father's had been long dead, they needed a father. Bruce was their father figure, in every way he could, but Tim. Tim had a father while under his wing. Maybe the man's paralysis had something to do with it. Or maybe it was the man's devotion to his work before the poisoning? He had heard in passing that the man payed attention to his son though, enjoyed spending time with him.

"Is it weird. I would cry more if you died?" Tim asked still not moving from his position. His hands still digging into his shirt, his breath still ghosting across Bruce's chest.

"No." Bruce finally decided, absently watching the snow drift down below, the winds picking up, their chill brushing across them in an icy embrace and Tim moved in closer, his legs pressing against Bruce's side.

"Is what we do out there. The way we fight crime. Is that right?" Tim asked finally moving his head from the man's chest. Peering up at his mentor's uncertain eyes. Bruce sighed and ran a placed a palm on the boy's forehead, running it up and through his hair, flattening it away from the teen's skin. The billionaire leaned forward, placing a firm kiss against the teen's head, lingering for a second, then he pulled away, letting his arms fall away from the boy.

"You need to find Alfred, and get to the Cave." Bruce stated with authority. Tim bowed his head as disappointment and thrill warred inside of him, watching the man's chest rise and fall with each breath. Bruce stated shifting beneath him, and the teen shook his head.

"You didn't answer the question." Tim whispered stalling the man, his eyes moving up to stare into Bruce's own again.

"It is. We stop crime." Bruce insisted almost childishly and Tim raised an eyebrow.

"With crime." The teen tacked on, watching his mentor's lips thin out in irritation. The man took another deep breath shifting his legs a little, Tim shifting with them, his butt meeting cold stone and he was suddenly painfully aware he was sitting awkwardly in his mentor and adoptive father's lap like a small child that he wasn't anymore.

"It's one way. There are other ways. Harvey was another way." Bruce whispered, staring down at the teen who held a dawning look of understanding.

"Dent?" Tim asked, shifting a little away from the larger male. Bruce nodded at the kid's question and the teen mimicked the action.

"What would you have done? If the Joker hadn't of stopped you? Him?" Tim asked and Bruce suddenly looked away, his brows furrowing.

"I don't know. Retire?" The billionaire joked turning back with a little smile on his face and Tim rolled his eyes.

"Yeah right." The kid stated with a smile of his own, slamming a fist into the man's muscled arm.

"That would be the apocalypse." Tim added on with a laugh, and the larger male shrugged smugly. Then Bruce tapped the teen on his side, jerking his head towards the kid's room.

"Get a move on. And next time." The male leaned forward, towering over the teen in his lap.

"Listen to me." Bruce demanded, his eyes narrowed good-naturedly.

"Aye aye, captain." Tim smirked, hopping of the window ledge and out of his lap with a half-assed salute. The kid came to full upright position and stood there, shifting awkwardly for a few seconds once silence fell over them, both unsure what to say. Bruce cleared his throat, both avoiding eye contact. Finally the teen took a deep breath and turned around, walking away, he got a few steps before pausing and turning back around, a worried look on his face.

"Be careful with him." Tim insisted and the billionaire smirked with a scoffed amused.

"Why? Is he dangerous?" Bruce asked sarcastically, raising one eyebrow.

"I was going to say manipulative, but I guess that sums it up." The teen shrugged offhandedly turning back around as the billionaire nodded his head in agreement.

"Just get out of the mansion, so I can stop worrying about you." Bruce called back to him and the teen nonchalantly waved a hand back at him, everything back to normal.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Bruce stayed at the window for a few more minutes, staring at nothing in particular, until the wind picked up speed, sending icy blasts into the mansion, soaking into the expensive carpet. The billionaire shivered as he reached out to pull the window closed, it swung inward and he hopped down at the last second, just before the glass forced him off the ledge. The playboy scowled as he landed on the wet carpet, soaking into his feet as he walked off the damp patch and onto the dry floor. Only realizing, now that he wasn't being pelted by snow flakes, that his clothes were just as damp. He wanted to head up to his bedroom and take a quick hot shower, check on his healing wounds, but checking in on the Joker sounded like a better plan, even if it was just making sure the door was firmly locked.

Bruce made his way down the hall and past Tim's empty bedroom, several items missing from it's vicinity, little things, like his jacket or music device, laptop. The billionaire smiled a little as he turned the corner towards the elevator, appreciative that the kid had left so quickly. The ride down in the elevator was quiet, Bruce lost in his thoughts, running through the discussions he had with both Fox and Tim. The quiet walk to the makeshift hospital room was quick, which was made even shorter due to the ajar door. Bruce's heart fell into his stomach as he took in the open room and he dashed down the remaining hallway, shoving the door open completely, letting it slam against the wall.

The bed was empty, the sheets thrown to one side. He instantly noticed the new half empty bag of blood he hadn't given the Joker, hanging innocently on the drip line, and the clear liquid packet beside it. The billionaire stalked forward turning the empty bag around to take in the label. Modafinil. Bruce violently tore the packet from the line, throwing it to the ground in anger. The cabinets by the sink were thrown open, a few broken bottles shattered on the ground, two syringes lay used on the tool tray next to him, two bottles near them. Bruce snatched one of the bottles up, twisting it around to read the label. Foradil. He scowled and snatched up the other one. Rocephin. So the Joker had taken something to keep him awake and then treated any side effects from it, something to keep his lungs functioning and to fight infections. The bastard even knew drugs. Bruce tiredly threw the bottles back onto the table stalking out of the room he glanced down at the little pile of surgical tools he had left on the ground, immediately noticing the scalpel was missing. Scowling he jogged down the hall, pulling out his phone as he went dialing Tim's cellphone. The kid answered on the fifth ring, almost giving Bruce a heart attack with the unnecessary delay.

"Tim, where are you?" The billionaire immediately asked, just reaching the elevator.

"Almost to the Cave. Yes Alfred is with me. Whats up?" The teen asked curiously, and Bruce let out a sigh, pressing the button to call the compartment.

"The Joker's lose." Bruce stated, and Tim swore colorfully on the other side of the phone. Alfred immediately admonished him.

"I'm sorry Bruce. I was. Distracted. I didn't... lock the door." The kid sighed guiltily and Bruce shook his head, despite the teen not being able to see it.

"It's okay. There's no one here for him to hurt. He'd have to go pretty far with his injuries to do any harm to anyone."

"He could do you harm." Tim countered with a quiet stern voice.

"He could try." Bruce snapped back as the elevator door dinged open, he shut down the call before the kid could reply, stepping into the small room he paused, staring at the lit up numbers on the wall. The Joker could be anywhere in the house. The mansion. If he were the Joker, and had just gotten up, where would he go? What would he do? Eat? Maybe. But that madman didn't seem like the type to care about food. He was thin as a stick and Bruce wasn't sure that was simply because of Arkham.

What if... the billionaire pressed a button, waiting patiently for the elevator to ascend several floors. The ding echoed through the hallway as the doors slid open and Bruce glanced wearily out of the box, checking the hall for any signs of crazy. When nothing met him he stepped out, turning in the familiar direction, he crept down the carpet as silently as he could. Stopping just outside of his bedroom, the door slightly ajar, just as he had left it. He reached out placing his finger tips against the wood and gently eased the door open, taking in every shadowy corner the madman could hide in. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the room, it was entirely possible the maniac hadn't been here, except that his bathroom light was on. He kept the door closed, but he never left the lights on. Bruce slowly, silently, crept across the room stopping outside of the bathroom. Making sure to avoid casting any shadows under the door as he pressed himself against the wall. He could hear the water running inside, and a merry little hum echoing off the walls, the rest of the sounds drowned out by the rushing water.

Bruce pressed himself against the wall, slowly reaching over he grabbed the handle, twisting it as silently as he could. The door slowly eased open the small click inaudible over the noise. Bruce suddenly threw the door open, barely tilting his head around the corner to see inside. A startled yelp instantly pierced the air, as the door bounced against the wall, and the Joker jumped back, one hand landing on his chest, his other holding on to the counter for dear life. White toothpaste ran down his equally pale chin, and was slathered all over his hand which held a toothbrush, leaving smudges on the bathroom counter. The man's chest was bare, little droplets of water still clinging to his skin as it fell from his wet hair. The towel on his hips, the only thing keeping him decent, slipped precariously low with his sudden reaction. The madman exhaled a deep breath, letting his hand fall from his heart.

"Jesus Bats! You scared me half to death! Careful, you could kill a man like that!" The Joker giggled, winking at the billionaire with his long lashes. Bruce's shoulders tensed in irritation, his fists clenching, as he took in what the madman had been up to. Steam billowed out of the room, the shower door thrown wide, puddles of water spread across the tiled floor. The Joker's hair was plastered to his pale face and clean skin, little droplets of water slowly slipping down his body, across the smooth plains of his chest. The bullet wounds an angry red against that pale expanse, the man's rosy nipples the only natural color gracing his skin.

"You sure know how to live, doll face." The Joker muttered his green eyes flashing in excitement, turning back to the fogged up mirror, a large circle was wiped away in front of him. The madman stuck the toothbrush back into his mouth, brushing rather violently for a few seconds, before his eyes met Bruce's cold stare in the reflection. They gazed at each other for a full minute, the madman absently brushing ever so often, like he was waiting for the billionaire to say something. Then the Joker's eyes widened and his foam covered hand shot into the air as he bent down, spitting toothpaste into the sink he straightened up again, twirling the toothbrush in the air with a tight guilty smile.

"I uh, borrowed your toothbrush, hope you don't mind." The maniac informed the playboy a grin breaking out onto his scarred face. He pivoted suddenly, his eyes glued to the billionaire as he hopped onto the counter, sticking the toothbrush back into his mouth. A large glob of frothy spit and foamed paste falling onto his chest, narrowly missing one of the bullet wounds. Bruce's eyes narrowed dangerously, he would have to burn that toothbrush, and the towel, he thought as the madman crossed his legs, leaning back on one hand, his hair brushing the mirror.

"Oh, don't worry. I don't have like cooties or anything!" The maniac stated, gesturing with the toothbrush. The man paused for a second, looking thoughtful.

"I mean. I had the clap once! But I, uh, hear that's cured." The Joker said with wide eyes as he leaned forward a little, his face completely serious, sending Bruce a pointed look. Then he leaned back, mechanically stuck the toothbrush back into his mouth and started brushing his teeth vigorously, his eyes never leaving the playboy, his face devoid of emotion as he scrubbed. Bruce huffed out an irritated sigh, leaning against the door frame with crossed arms and a thin lipped scowl. The playboy shook his head in disbelief as the madman continued brushing his teeth, looking at Bruce like he was the weird one.

"Sometimes, I think god or something created you just to piss me off." Bruce muttered in annoyance. He'd have to clean this entire mess up by himself. Alfred wasn't coming near the mansion. It wasn't like the playboy was lazy or couldn't do it, he... okay he was lazy. Being a billionaire had perks. He spent his energy on more important things then cleaning his bathroom. Like cleaning up Gotham, and keeping his things clean to begin with. Could that towel get any lower? Bruce had never noticed the man's thin happy trail before, the blonde hairs standing out against his bruised torso. The Joker laughed, rocking back on the counter before leaning back forward, farther then before, placing green eyes where Bruce's blue ones had been looking.

"Up here sweetheart." The Joker giggled, tapping his cheek bone with one finger, a smirk gracing his lips, the billionaire's eyes glared into the madman's abnormally green ones. Then the maniac scoffed rolling eyes, straightening up quickly.

"And god didn't create me!" The Joker exclaimed, throwing his hands out a little, flicking white foam all over the mirror behind him.

"You did. So stop being a little baby and enjoy life a little!" The Joker laughed throwing his arms out, splattering the wall as well. Then he shoved the toothbrush back into his mouth with a laugh and a Cheshire grin, his eyes creased in merriment.

"Stop. Messing up. My bathroom. And no. I didn't create you. You were the Joker before I even knew you existed, let alone had taken Sionis' place." Bruce corrected him, a sour frown on his handsome features at the accusation of creating such a monstrosity. The Joker laughed a dry note to his tone and he pulled the toothbrush out of his mouth again, leveling the playboy with a disapproving stare.

"Shows what you remember." The Joker muttered with a dark chuckle, hopping off the counter he turned back to the mirror, sticking out his tongue he scrubbed it down with a childish awing sound getting saliva and foam all over his sink.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bruce growled out in annoyance at the sound and the man's undertone. The maniac halted in mid brush dropping his hand.

"What does it. Sound! Like it means?" The Joker countered sending him a raised eyebrow in the mirror, stopping his scrubbing for only a moment, before returning to his work, this time without the awful sound. Bruce was about to send him a sarcastic reply when he stopped, unsure if that was the best course of action. If maybe, maybe, he could get something here, some snippet of the madman's past.

"Like I. Forgot. Something." Bruce muttered back, his eyes narrowed taking in every move the Joker made in response. The madman's eyes widened comically and he pulled the toothbrush out, and slowly he brought his hands together in a slow wet clap, a sardonic smile gracing his lips.

"Well! You are. Definitely. The worlds greatest detective! Damn you are good! See this is why I keep you around." The Joker stated sarcastically, shoving his hands under the running water, rinsing them off. The towel around his waste slipping farther down, revealing the beginning curve of his butt cheeks, two little dimples resting just above the swells. Bruce's eyes snapped back up, when the Joker's eyes locked onto him. The madman held back a smirk, bending down a little, letting the towel slip farther as he filled a hand full of water. He sipped it, swishing it around a few times before spitting it back into the sink. He repeated the process a few more times, Bruce watching on in irritated silence as he tried to remember anything, any time he could have met the Joker before... before he was the Joker. Before he was this twisted creature, because he would have remembered someone as mad as this man. Said madman splashed his face with water, rinsing the foam down the sink. Then he straightened up, grabbing the towel at his waist he tore it off, wiping away the toothpaste that had fallen onto his chest, revealing way more then the billionaire wanted to see. Bruce averted his eyes as quickly as possible, but not before he caught sight of the blonde hairs connected to that happy trail. The Joker wiped his face and dropped the towel to the ground, rolling his eyes at the playboy's modesty. The madman ignored his indecency waltzing over to one of the cabinets. The maniac threw it open, scanning its contents quickly.

"Stay out of there." Bruce growled his eyes snapping back up to glare at the back of the madman's head, refusing to let his eyes trail father down, despite how the light caught on his skin. He didn't ever. Ever. Want to be able to imagine the Joker naked in any way shape or form, or any of his enemies for that matter. It seemed fate had a different idea. It was just something a little too personal not to affect the way he viewed them. Clothing was a shroud, being naked is a vulnerability that only humans felt. He supposed the Joker wasn't human after all, but he sure as hell looked it.

"Oh ho ho! The good stuff!" The Joker exclaimed excitedly snatching a bottle out of the cabinet. The madman spun towards the billionaire who kept his eyes firmly on the male's face. His distaste evident from the set of his jaw and the line of his lips. The madman held the container up to his face, one finger pointing to the product, a look of curiosity on his features.

"You know... this is made from baby fetuses right?" The Joker asked skeptically, "I mean I'm all for a dead child or two, or six, but I wouldn't take you as the type!" Bruce's eyes narrowed in irritation and he stepped forward reaching out to snatch the container from the man's hand.

"They're cultured, its all created in a lab." The billionaire snapped, swiping at the product but the Joker danced just out of his reach. A disbelieving look marring his face, his feet splashing in the puddles on the floor, his nipples hardening in the quickly chilling room, goosebumps breaking out across his skin as the billionaire stepped closer to him.

"Oh because lab babies are so much better! That makes. Perfect. Sense! It's okay! They're not real!"

"They aren't actually fetuses. Just put it. Back." Bruce growled his voice slipping into a feral depth and the Joker shivered unconsciously, the action entirely noticeable with his lack of clothing, almost slipping in a puddle. The man righted himself, raising a finger to his pursed lips, tapping them a few times in feigned contemplation as he stepped back, a little hum leaving his lips.

"No. No. I don't, I don't think I will." The madman stated with a minute shrug, sending Bruce an apologetic look taking a few more steps away from the larger male. Bruce took a menacing step forward, not willing to play games today. That cream was the only reason his didn't have any scars. The rest of his body wouldn't as well if he could bring himself to care about it, but he wasn't going to get harassed over the damn thing. The Joker unscrewed the lid and the billionaire scowled, stalking across the large bathroom towards the madman. The maniac's eyes snapped up, looking a little scared, and he held one hand towards the advancing male.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Calm down there tiger! I have the same stuff at home! Chill your boots toots! I'm just borrowing it! Look. I'll pay you back. Theeee, next time I rob a bank?! Huh?! It's not hard, wont take long at all!" The Joker suggested stepping back to keep up with the playboy's advance.

"No. You wont." Bruce stated the Joker's back finally hitting the cold wall. The playboy tore the container out of the madman's hand with a scowl. Then it dawned on him, the full meaning of the Joker's words, and the billionaire couldn't stop himself from looking down. Taking in the madman's pale skin, the bruises and raw scratches... but that was it. The man barely had a blemish, a few thin fading scars could be barely made out.

One near his collar bone, where the madman had been hit with shrapnel from his own bomb at a heist Batman had crashed. It was the vigilante's fault the bomb had gone off when it had, even though it had been the Joker's plan all along, blow them both up or something ridiculous, he still wasn't able to stop it in time. A thin one on his arm, covered by new scratches, from falling on a downed henchman's knife during one of their many tussles. The billionaire remembered the blood, the Joker simply standing back up again, growing faint by the second.

Bruce's free hand reached out, tracing along the healed skin, the slice had been to the bone. Ending their little fight almost immediately, the madman collapsing from blood loss surprisingly quick. Harley had crashed in to take him away, preventing Batman from taking the man in. Bruce's eyes snapped down without really thinking, taking in the barely raised skin, the nasty scar they should have shared, but didn't. The Joker's was faded and pale, nearly matching his skin, while Bruce's stood out rather painfully when he undressed. The circular puncture wound lay just beside the maniac's hip bone, near the dusty blonde hairs below, Bruce refusing to recognize anything that lay beyond them. The billionaire's eyes snapped up, his steely blue meeting wide pools of acidic green. The Joker watched him in silence, his lips parted, blanketed with scars. Bruce opened his mouth, unsure of what to say, but he felt he had to say something. The surprise that the Joker actually cared about scars shocked him.

All that came out however was a loud groan of pain as the Joker's knee slammed straight into his balls, pain immediately webbed into his stomach and he curled in on himself as it stabbed through his insides. The madman quickly slipped past him, the heat of his body rushing away as the maniac dashed from the room, snatching the container from Bruce's uncaring hand as he went.

"Fuck." Bruce hissed, leaning against the counter as he tried to breath past the pain. There was a reason he wore a cup. Extra cushioned cup. He slammed a fist into the counter, willing the new pain to drown out the other. Finally he could take in oxygen and Bruce winced straightening up a little. A vicious scowl cut across his features, and he stiffly took a step towards the door wincing in pain. He eventually stalked out of the bathroom ignoring the cold puddles of water he stepped through on the way. He exited into the bedroom, his muscles tense, anger riding the pain coursing through his body. The Joker sat innocently on the bed, near his blood stain. Sitting cross legged, standing out starkly against the darker theme of the playboy's bedroom. The lid of the container lay across the room, as if the man had tossed it carelessly away from him, before he started using the cream. Bruce growled darkly, swiftly closing the space between them, the madman didn't even bother to look up at his approach, simply continued to smear the cream over his scratches. The billionaire gritted his teeth and raised a fist, ready to slam the man's face into the floor, returning the favor, pain for pain. He reached the edge of the bed, his fist swinging down and then he froze. A cold digging met his throat.

"Ah ah ah. I tend to get what I want. And I'd prefer not to kill you over something as trivial as a four thousand dollar bottle of cream! Think of the dead children." The Joker giggled pressing the scalpel into Bruce's skin, breaking the surface, a thin trail of blood slipping down his neck and into his shirt. The billionaire gritted his teeth, he'd forgotten about that, where the man stashed it was beyond him. They stared at each other for a few seconds then Bruce's hand snapped up, easily disarming the madman he turned the tables, placing the scalpel against the Joker's neck instead. The madman let out an excited squeal of joy, throwing his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"I keep forgetting you're not just a pretty face." The Joker muttered, eyeing the playboy lewdly.

"Lucky for Gotham, I'm not." Bruce replied, he wanted to press the scalpel closer as the madman had, but he wasn't sure if the maniac wouldn't press harder against it just to see Bruce's terrified face. Suddenly the phone in his pocket rang, and the billionaire removed the small blade from the Joker's skin, pulling out his phone with the other hand. He leveled the madman with a stern look, silently reminding him to stay put.

"Hello?" Bruce answered, keeping his eyes on the now humming male. The Joker took the opportunity to smear some more cream onto his skin, gently covering the cuts he had received some point the night before.

"Bruce. I think you need to check out the news. Gotham's in a panic. I guess they couldn't keep this quiet forever." Barbra's voice came over the phone and Bruce's eyes glanced towards the Television. He gave the madman one last glance before he made his way to the coffee table, snatching the remote up he switched on the television. Doctor Mengele was on the screen informing Gotham of the breakouts that had occurred last night due to Bruce Wayne's interference. She recounted his purchase of the asylum from under the current owner's noses, his break in and destruction of their security systems. They didn't have any footage of him on the scene though, which was only slightly helpful. He could easily play this off as one of the fake Wayne's running around Gotham, but it would be difficult to spin how the fake Bruce got a hold of his accounts. Something warm and wet ran across his neck and Bruce's head snapped around in fear, worried he'd find the madman licking his blood, just realizing the Joker had moved closer to him. The maniac was on his knees on the mattress, his face close to Bruce's. The man ran one cream slicked finger over the new cut in his skin, and the playboy held back a sigh of relief as the madman met his eyes, giving him a reassuring wink. Bruce's eyes narrowed, as the maniac dipped a finger back in, running them along his cheek again, covering the nail marks with the solution.

"Bruce?" Barbra asked quietly over the phone, catching the billionaire's attention.

"This isn't as bad as it seems." Bruce stated, tearing his eyes back to the screen, ignoring the maniac beside him in favor of the television. Not wanting the scaplel anywhere near the madman he tossed it across the room, letting it land onto the dresser, it slid across almost falling behind the furniture.

"Maybe but, I also have some news on the clones or whatever they are." Barbra informed him as the madman delicately covered another scratch on his cheek.

"They're not clones." Bruce replied, swatting halfheartedly at the male's fingers, when the maniac got a little too close to his lips. The madman huffed and the bed shifted, the Joker going back to treating his own wounds. Which reminded Bruce, he needed to wrap the man's bullet wounds back up, it was obvious the madman didn't care much about them.

"Well you're right about that one. They did have surgical marks across their bodies, some major cosmetic surgery, and I mean major. But that's not where it stops. They've been genetically altered."

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked, his eyes slipping from the television to watch the Joker hum a little tune while he covered his body in the cream, gently covering each and every scratch.

"I was able to pull up their previous identities, but their previous DNA. Doesn't match the samples that were taken from their bodies." Barbra said, as the playboy's eyes narrowed at the madman.

"Is genetic altering even. Possible?" Bruce asked distractedly his voice dropping into a darker tone, his hand shooting out, stopping the The Joker from smothering his still raw and bloody bullet wound with the stuff. Green eyes shot up glaring angrily at the billionaire who stared back unblinking, his grip tightening on the man's wrist in warning, before he tossing it away from the male's wound with a stern look. The madman scowled down at the bullet hole before gazing up at the billionaire, pouting with discontent.

"No." Bruce growled out with finality and the maniac rolled his eyes in exasperation, reluctantly moving on to the smaller cuts with a grumbled annoyance.

"What?" Barbra asked startled, taken back at the man's suddenly stern tone.

"Not you." The playboy corrected, turning his gaze back to the television, yet still keeping an eye on the man beside him.

"Ooookay..." Barbra muttered, obviously still confused. There was a scuffling sound and the poorly oiled computer chair in the Bat Cave squeaked.

"Is he with the Joker?" Tim's voice asked suddenly and Barbra blanched.

"Wha-What?!" Bruce winced as the sound was directed into his ear drum.

"It's a long story. For later. Is genetic altering possible?" Bruce insisted they move on, and it took the girl a few seconds to compose herself.

"Um, I... Not that, I know of. The last known research into the subject was during World War II, the Nazi's lead scientist and doctor was studying the subject. Along with many other morbid things." Barbra informed him and Bruce bit back a groan, closing his eyes, why hadn't he seen it. It was rather blatantly staring him in the face.

"Let me guess. The doctor's last name was Mengele?" The playboy replied, running a hand through his hair, noticing the Joker's unblinking eyes on him. He dropped his hand back down, unwilling to show the madman any more of his more human side. To The Joker he was Batman, nothing more, nothing less. The maniac's eyes narrowed for a second, and Bruce pretended not to notice the staring.

"Yeah. It was. Which is also – ." The madman's hand slowly crept nonchalantly towards the bullet wounds.

"The name of the. Asylum. Doctor." Bruce finished for her, trailing off with irritation as he snatched the Joker's hand away from his bullet wound yet again. The madman glared up at him and Bruce glared right back.

"Yeah, it's weird though, I did some research the guy never had any kids. He was too obsessed with his work to get a family." Finally the madman gave an angry huff ripping his hand away from Bruce's he immediately tried again, the billionaire easily snatching the hand back away.

"That is strange, maybe a lover? Extended. Family?" Bruce grunted distractedly, battling the Joker's stubbornness with his free hand, surprised at the strength the male still had, swatting and tugging the maniac's hands away from the wounds. Finally the madman gave up, weakly swatting at the playboy's hands with a huff of resignation. He instead turned his attention else where, trying to reach the cuts on his back, which the maniac didn't have any problem achieving. His pale arms easily wrapping around his body to cover the scratches. His head turned back, the green hair blocking his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Barbra asked with concern.

"I'm fine." Bruce stated, if the maniac tried one more time he would just knock the man out. He didn't feel like games today, or any day for that matter.

"Anyways, I also checked that out, there are no records of a lover, not that it isn't possible, but the entire family line was hunted down after the war. Mengele didn't just do experiments on Jews, he used Germans as well. The country didn't take too kindly when that fact became public."

"I wouldn't doubt it." Bruce muttered, narrowing his eyes as the Joker's kept flicking to him, despite needing to see his backside.

"I'll do some more research, see what – ."

"That's enough." The billionaire growled out cutting Barbra off, snatching the container away from the Joker's hand when the man succeeded in getting a bit of the cream on his bullet wound.

"What?" Barbra stuttered.

"Oh what?! Its not like you can't afford it, big boy!" The Joker exclaimed with an exasperated huff, running a hand through his still drying hair to get it out of his face, slicking it back.

"Oh my god! Is that really the Joker?!" Barbra gasped through the phone and the playboy gritted his teeth.

"That's not the point and you know it." Bruce replied deeply, easily taking on the Batman tone with the male.

"How is the Joker not the point?"

"Oh come on! Like it really matters! I'm not going to die from this you man child!" The Joker jumped up throwing his arms into the air in exasperation, he slowly backed away from Bruce.

"You're wounds need proper treatment, antibiotics. Not facial cream." Bruce insisted sternly, and the Joker laughed a little turning his back to the man he took a few more steps towards the edge of the room, near the window. Coming up next to a little side table, he walked past it a bit, staring out of the glass for a few seconds.

"Whoops." The Joker gasped, before slapping a hand into the expensive lamp, watching it fly off the side table and shatter loudly onto the floor.

"Joker." Bruce growled dangerously and the madman looked up at him with innocent eyes.

"Oh my god. It really is the Joker. Bruce. What are you doing? He's dangerous! You're not Batman!" Barbra insisted from over the phone, fear and concern in her voice, but mostly fear. Fear of the man that had placed her in the wheel chair.

"Sorry! Must have slipped." The madman suggested, pivoting suddenly with a whistled tune, he waltzed towards the other side of the window, nearing the other matching lamp.

"Alright stop!" Bruce shouted before the man could break the second one. He didn't want to find two of them, they were expensive enough as a singular purchase.

"Look, you can put this shit on." The playboy held up the cream, "After. The antibiotic. And for fuck sake put some clothes on." Bruce snapped with an angry scowl. Silence reigned on the other side of the phone as the billionaire's eyes narrowed. The Joker ran one finger up the side of the lamp, catching on the rimmed surfaces he let it tip a little with pursed lips. Then he let it go, Bruce held his breath as it fell back onto the table, apparently the madman had made up his mind. Robin's voice broke over the phone, asking Barbra what happened, but the girl remained silent.

"Fine." The Joker conceded scratching his arm and glancing down at his nakedness, taking in his equally pale manhood dusted with blonde hairs. Bruce's eyes followed the line of sight, then he quickly turned towards the television, trying to get the man's full form out of his head. The maniac needed to eat more. He could see all of his ribs. Maybe Bruce would shove food violently down his throat. Helping the man. Wasn't that something the Joker hated? Sounded like a good torture. It took Bruce a second to realize he was still on the phone.

"Hold on Barbra." The billionaire stated, moving over to a set of drawers he opened the top one, pulling out a wireless earpiece. The Joker mean while had walked back around the bed, his hands behind his back. Inspecting the rather large blood stain he had left on Bruce's mattress. The playboy switched the piece on and tuned the phone to their encrypted wireless signal. He put the phone back into his pocket.

"Can you hear me?" Bruce asked Barbra just as the Joker reached his side of the bed, wandering over to him.

"Um, yeah?" Barbra muttered quietly, Tim still pleading for an update.

"Good." The playboy stated just as the Joker placed the tips of his fingers on the edge of his shoulder.

"You have anything else for me?" The madman's hand trailed across his back.

"Anything on the Joker?" The finger's drummed onto his other shoulder when his name was spoken, then the hand slid off and Bruce ignored it.

"Has my wannabes done anything new? Strange? Anything of note?" Bruce asked shifting his weight, his eyes sliding onto the Joker, who huffed in boredom falling back onto the bed. The playboy averted his eyes again, ignoring how a certain part bounced more then the rest.

"Not really. I hear from the police chat that they mutter a lot, apparently they're not all there. And I thought you had the Joker wi– ."

"I do. But there should be more of them. If Hush wants Gotham he needs to control both ends. He has a partner in this. It could be the doctor, but then they'd have to find some way to control their Joker themselves. I'm guessing they made quite a few of them. Maybe they're waiting around to see which one is left standing. Or maybe they had a better success with one, over the others. It could be a roulette, one is their main man." Bruce proposed and the Joker sighed exaggeratedly, slamming his head back against the bed over and over again, obviously getting bored.

"Even so... What if the real Joker was the one left standing?" Barbra asked thoughtfully, finally getting them somewhere.

"I don't think they'd risk that." Bruce stated slowly, knowing where she was going with that train of thought.

"You think they have them bugged? If they have tracking devices I might be able to pin them down. If I had lunatics running around that's what I'd do." Barbra suggested, and Bruce nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah, see if you can find anything. I'll do some digging as well. If I have time..." The playboy trailed off glancing over a the maniac who was swishing his legs back and forth over the edge of the bed, and his train of thought died instantly. What if... They tagged the Joker as well? Bruce's eyes narrowed in on the man.

"Call me if anything comes up." Bruce muttered halfheartedly shutting the call down with a touch to his ear. It took the madman a second to notice the playboy's calculating gaze on him. Slowly the man's legs stopped their marry twitching, and the madman narrowed his eyes back at the billionaire. There was an awkward silence between them for a full minute.

"What..." The Joker asked slowly, raising a skeptical eyebrow, one had itching at one of his many cuts. Bruce didn't answer, wondering the best way to approach this subject. He didn't have the equipment to scan the man for a tracking device here. All of that was located in the Bat Cave and the madman wasn't going anywhere near that place. So the next best thing... The Joker sat up, cocking his head to the side.

"Seriously. What?! I didn't do it! Whatever it was you're giving me that look for. It wasn't me! Pinky swear!" The Joker insisted throwing his arms out in another surrendering gesture. Bruce cleared his throat, guess it was a good thing the man wasn't shy.

"I need to search you." Bruce stated evenly and the Joker's eyebrows raised, asking the billionaire if he were serious right now.

"What you think I hid a knife in my ass? You can check if you want." The Joker offered wagging his eyebrows while leaning back on his hands.

"Not unless you were anally probed at Arkham."

"Well it is standard procedure." The madman sang, with a little giggle at the end.

"While knocked out."

"Not! Standard procedure." The Joker punctuated with a fist through the air.

"Well, uh, let's see. Not, that. I. Recall. Get it. That I recall." The madman laughed, wincing a little as the pain meds he had been given that morning continued to wear off. He pressed a hand against his new bullet wound and it came away with some blood.

"Stand up." Bruce ordered and the madman blanched a little, followed by a small shocked pause.

"Wait are you serious?! Isn't this a little fast? I do prefer dinner and a movie first. Preferably a. Horror movie. I like when the people die. Horrible. Deaths! Gets my brain churning out new ideas, ya know?" The Joker rambled, his eyes widening as the playboy stepped closer to him.

"Up." Bruce ordered again, slipping into the deeper demanding growl.

"Alright alright! Jeez. Give a man some time to prepare. At least start with some foreplay." The Joker insisted as he moved off the bed to stand almost awkwardly in front of the billionaire.

"Hopefully it wont come to that." Bruce stated, reaching forward he picked up the madman's arm, starting at the wrist. He slowly scanned for any signs of a surgical cut, running his fingers down the man's surprisingly soft skin, looking for any abnormal bumps.

"Oh... Oh! You think they... I guess they could have." The Joker muttered quietly as Bruce inspected his arm delicately, gently. His fingers trailing softly across his abused skin. Bruce worked his way up the man's arm in silence, noticing the way his hidden muscles slid under the skin. How his bone structure and muscle mass wasn't quite as scrawny as he first appeared.

"Tell me what happened last night." The playboy demanded as he reached the man's shoulder, he hadn't realized the man actually had birthmarks on his body, they were so minutely discolored they were almost impossible to see. Dotting his skin every once in awhile with they're presence.

"Uh, what?" The Joker exhaled, a little distracted. Bruce shifted his feet, moving in closer to him.

"How did you get these? I need to know what you were injured by." The billionaire insisted resisting the urge to run his hand along the man's distinctive collar bone. It was surprising, he expected to see skinny bones and underdeveloped muscles, sure the man could use some food, but he was a lot more sturdy looking then Bruce would have expected. Less petite, less scrawny. He was more athletic, with lithe muscles and strong frame. The billionaire bet with a proper diet the man could end up throwing some really mean punches. Could fill out a little more, he'd never be as bulky as Bruce wouldn't though.

"Oh right. Well let's see. Nails, teeth, boots, branches, rocks, bullets, a knife or two, batons, Bats, you know the usual." The Joker smirked as Bruce reached his bruised abdomen, quickly testing anything that looked suspiciously like a knife wound. He doubted they would place it somewhere the madman would notice however. The maniac's abs flexed under his touch, the muscles sliding under his hand as if the male was unsure if he should tense or relax. The playboy adamantly refused to look farther down, instead placing both hands on the man's shoulders and flipping the Joker around.

The madman was quite as Bruce inspected every cut on his back, the billionaire's slightly calloused hands sliding across his skin gently. Something he wasn't used to. Gentle wasn't in his repertoire, in his life. Bruce watched the man's muscles tense under his scrutiny, sometimes sliding with a hidden power under his hand. No wonder the man held quite a punch. He wasn't as sinewy as one would expect.

The man's spine was noticeable, but not in an unhealthy way, it didn't stick out. It simply rested just under the skin, making itself known in little bumps down his back. Bruce absentmindedly ran a hand down each bump and the Joker shivered beneath his touch. A breathy exhale leaving his lips, audiable in the silence of the room, and there it was. Bruce snapped out of his musings as his hand moved over, running across a rather deep cut. For such a short scratch. The playboy dropped to his knees ignoring the dimples just above the man's ass, the way it swelled smoothly, creased perfectly. He avoided looking down farther at all, instead he focused on the cut, pressing his fingers into the man's flesh with a little more pressure.

"Shit." The Joker whispered dangerously, taking in a shaky breath as something shifted under his skin, under Bruce's fingers. "Get it out. Get it out!"

* * *

><p>XxxxxxxxxxxxxX<p>

Whew. I was going to finish the my idea for the rest of the "day" in Batworld. But then I was like damn. 27 pages... Maybe I should like. Make it a cliff hanger or something. Buwahahaha. Then I scrolled back up and was like... hmmm here works.

So hes a little naked. I didn't want to put TOO much emphasis on that fact, because how hot the Joker is isn't why Bats will end up with him, but its definitely something the Joker would do. So Bruce didn't really pay attention much, so I wasn't going to either. Just remember he's super sexy. Growl. Again. Apologies for the whole Robin spiel. Maybe later when this is finished, and after my Treasure Planet fanfiction. (maybe) I'll write one with Robin. Again no promises.


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